Beyond Secrets And Lies
by Chikifriend
Summary: Snape is Harry's...father? With Harry's medical problem, he gets more than he bargained for: a 4 in 1 deal! Having MPD is not easy and Harry doesn't want anyone to know. AU! RR! Severitus! Snape must race to find a cure before anyone finds out. Or else...
1. Secrets

**BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES**

CHAPTER 1

By: Chiki Yumeshisa

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Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good...okay fine! I don't own Harry Potter. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim though. 

AN: This is the first time I have written a Harry Potter fanfic. I love the books, the movies and the characters. My favorite is Professor Snape in all his darkness, his character just rocks my world. In this story, I want you all to pay close attention and I hope that you will enjoy it. This is also an attempt to answer Severitus' challenge. I've done a lot of research for this story, even talked to several qualified people for answers.

As always, I write for fun, and I live for your reviews. And now, onto the story.

-Chiki

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Summary: Harry's got a medical problem and it's not normal. He doesn't want anyone to know - but what happens when someone finds out? It becomes even harder when his many faces begin to show and he can't control them. AU! R/R! (Ratings vary) Having MPD is not easy. Add the secrets and the lies...

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- **Secrets** - 

Cool, green-gray eyes were looking absently out the window, focusing only on the world outside it. Apparently, the strange looks that were being directed at the owner of those eyes were going unnoticed.

Hogwarts castle - big and old, yet sturdy and strong - was being surrounded by beautiful coloful leaves that fell slowly like confetti from the surrounding trees. It seemed that they fell in an order, as if each had a designated spot to fall to. A small wind picked up, sending those leaves in another direction. Obligingly, the leaves moved with it, seeking another destination, another place to rest.

In a state of bliss, he continued to watch, ignoring as the class filled quite quickly. Whispers had now started up about the forlorn figure sitting by the window, but even those were lost to him. He didn't even notice when a boy slid into the seat next to him. He had no clue as to whether anyone spoke to him. If so, they must have gone away, thinking he was antisocial - well, it wasn't far from the truth. He had the look for it, too.

The window reflected his image: dark hair that was tousled and wiry scarcely hid the dark blue bandana that he had wrapped around his forehead. Black-rimmed glasses adorned his somewhat round face, but of late, that face was paler and less plump. It couldn't be helped though.... He wore the black cloak that all the students at Hogwarts wore. His had a large red and gold crest bearing the symbol of a proud lion.

His attention was caught when he heard a distant noise. It was torture having to tear himself away from his solitude and be sucked back into reality once again. Sharply he turned his eyes to the front, where the professor stood, making that noise again: rapping her wand on the desk like some sort of mallot. It seemed to work, because the class settled down. Books and parchment were opened, and quills were taken out, at the ready.

Then, he heard a student pipe up. "Professor, this school is strict with its rules, right?" The green-gray eyes slid to a boy who had fine blond hair that was neatly gelled back. He had a shrewd look. His hand that had been waving in the air ceased as soon as the question had been called out.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy." McGonogall said, almost impatiently. She was an elderly woman who had a thin face, and a thin, straight nose which she was always looking down at the students with. She began to address the class, but Malfoy's hand shot up in the air again, waving like an annoying pendulum at high speed.

"_Yes_, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Isn't it school policy to be in uniform at all times during school hours?" Malfoy turned meaningfully to look at him, a sneer appearing on his face. "I don't see anything on the school uniform policy that says we can wear bandanas. I don't see why new students are allowed to violate the rules." His blue eyes were sparkling maliciously. Malfoy's seatmates were grinning and nudging each other with their elbows. Now, the whole class was interested and was looking in his direction.

Professor McGonogall looked like she was about to snap something back at him, but instead she sighed. "He's right - Mr. Potter, I'm sorry, but you'll have to take that off. Rules are rules."

Feeling his face heat, the new student couldn't help but glare in Malfoy's direction. McGonogall was waiting expectantly however, her wiry hands folded together in front of her robes.

At the mention of his name, the class broke into whispers once more.

The boy sitting to his right turned to stare incredulously. "Potter?" He repeated. "_Harry_ Potter?"

Slowly, Harry pulled the bandana off, and the whole class fell silent. A scar, shaped like a lightning bolt, stood visible on his forehead, almost as though someone had taken a knife and carved it there. "Yeah...I'm Harry Potter." He said miserably.

Now the class began to get rowdy as furtive glances shot Harry's way. Some students even went so far as to stand on their seats to get a better look at him. He could only stare back at them evenly for a moment before hunching his shoulders and shying away. So much for his solitude.

The professor rapped sharply on her desk to get their attention once more. "All right, settle down!" Her shrill voice cut through the commotion, and the class took their seats non too happily.

"Mr. Potter has transferred to our school just today," Professor McGonogall announced. "Hopefully he will enjoy his stay. I trust that all students will show him courtesy." Her footsteps echoed off the hardwood floors as she came around to stand by him. "Mr. Weasley, as Harry is a Gryffindor as well, please show him to your common room. If he has any questions, help him as best as you can."

Harry's seatmate seemed to positively glow, and he nodded earnestly. Satisfied, the professor went back to the front of the class to begin her lecture.

Harry's eyes returned to stare out the window. He had hoped that he would not be noticed, and that everyone would just leave him alone. He hated the attention, he didn't need it. There was no chance of being accepted....

The events outside hadn't changed in the least, except that now, the yard below held a couple of students gathered on the worn granite steps, in a group. Just as he was beginning to settle down comfortably, lost in his thoughts, he was distracted by his seatmate.

"I'm Ron Weasley."

Harry blinked. Never a moment of solitude to himself, he mused silently. "Well....I'm..well, you already know." Ron gave him a half-grin in response. A blank look passed over Harry's face for a moment, and then, he brightened and said, "You've got the most brilliant hair. It makes you look sophisticated."

At this, Ron turned pink.

"Um.....thanks, but I don't think so." He fingered his red hair disdainfully. "I don't think anyone else thinks so, either."

"I do. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Taken aback by the questioning, Ron blinked. "Well....no....but...."

"Can I call you Ron?"

"Uh...sure..."

"Great! You can call me -" He broke off suddenly, and his face turned a pale, ruddy color. He brought his hand up to his forehead, covering his scar. "I-I don't feel so good...."

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, his brows drawing together in confusion. He didn't know whether to be impressed by the questions or to be insulted. How was one supposed to act? This guy switched moods so quickly it was hard to keep up with him.

Harry dropped his hand, taking a deep breath, blinking a couple of times. "I-I'm fine...." He lied, keeping his panic in check. To avoid further interrogation and embarassment, he bent over his books, and did not speak again for the rest of the class.

At the end, Professor McGonogall came over to him, dismissing the rest, and keeping Harry back.

Ron gathered his books. He looked at Harry, but once again, Harrry's attention was turned to the window. Whatever it was that fascinated him, Ron did not know. He took a last glance over his shoulder before exiting the room, running to catch up to his friends.

Neville Longbottom was engaged in a conversation with Hermione Granger. They were standing next to a statue of a woman carrying a child, waiting. Both looked up as Ron neared.

"Ron- I can't believe you're sitting next to Harry Potter!" Neville said, excitedly. "What's he like?"

Ron shrugged, switching his books from his right arm to his left. "He's kind of....strange...he can't keep a straight topic...." He definitely didn't want to relay the whole conversation again. Just thinking about it made him flush slightly.

"He's probably shy." Hermione told him.

Ron shook his head. "No, I mean - it was almost as if..." He dropped his voice, feeling his face grow red again, and leaned forward. The two leaned in too, eager to hear what he had to say. His voice a whisper, even if there were no other students in the hall, he continued, "...he was hitting on me, or something...."

Hermione pulled back, looking indignant. "Oh, come off it, Ron!" Her nose had wrinkled in disgust at his suggestion. Neville didn't look like he believed him either. "He's probably nervous, having to make new friends." Was her suggestion.

"Harry Potter - nervous?" Neville asked, wonderingly. It was clear he believed everything he had heard about the famous boy. "It doesn't seem likely."

"More so with him hitting on Ron." Hermione sniffed. "Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to Potions. I don't want Professor Snape on my case." And with that, she haughtily turned, pushing her bushy hair over her shoulder, her robes swirling as she left.

Ron and Neville ran to catch up.

- - - -

Potions was held in the dungeons in a dark, dank classroom.The sound of boiling and the lucrid smell of several ingredients filled the air. The walls were slick with a thin layer of slime - subsance gathered and collected over the period of brewing and condensing different ingredients.

At the front of the class was Professor Snape, who looked as surly as he always did, with his arms crossed over his chest, his black eyes staring at his students hawk-like, behind a curtain of greasy, clumpy black hair. His mouth seemed to be set in a permanant frown. Once in a while, as he spoke, he would tug at the cuffs to his suit, the black color complementing his dark nature.

His lecture stopped when the door to the room opened. His black eyes snapped up to see who had interrupted him. He was greatly displeased when he was interrupted. The door admitted someone whom he had thought he'd never again encounter the likes of.

Harry tried to enter as quietly as possible, but he froze upon seeing the Potions master sneering down at him. He had half a mind to leave, but then Snape's voice rang through the air, as silky and scathe scathing as it had always been. "Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Potter..." He could already feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck start to raise and it took him a moment to gather his bearing and control his breathing. It wouldn't do to get angry, but it was just like Professor Snape to bait and pick on him.

"Late on your first day?" Snape was saying, "Ten points from Gryffindor." Harry couldn't help but glare. He knew better than to argue though.

Snape continued, not taking his eyes off the boy. "Take your seat, Potter." He all but spat the last part out as he snapped to the desk in front of his, his eyes watching as Harry slowly made his way to the front. He slid beside a girl who was bristling in her seat. "What a surprise...." Snape murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Indeed...." Harry said, beneath his breath. His day wasn't getting any better.

The girl sitting next to him cast the professor a dark look, putting a cupful of mantis legs in her cauldron. Fortunately, for her, Snape had already turned away, his black robes swirling about him as he glided over to the opposite side of the room. Wordlessly, Harry set about to putting his ingredients together as well, quickly taking out a piece of parchment and scribbling the instructions from the board. His writing was neat, despite the speed he was writing at.

Hermione watched him closely out of the corner of her eye. As far as she could tell, he seemed normal. He was even handsome, far from some of the descriptions that she had read about in the Daily Prophet. She watched as his fingers picked up a small, tightly stopped bottle and pulled the stopper out of it before tipping its contents into his potion.

Her eyes travelled upward, toward his scar, passing the thick-rimmed glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. The mark was clearly visible. A curse - that's what people said. She couldn't help but stare. She nearly jumped out of her skin when his green-gray eyes met hers. "Yes?"

"N-nothing!" She stammered, feeling herself blush. Yes, much _much_ more handsome.

He smiled slightly, continuing to put his things together.

Feeling awkward, she gathered her courage. What Ron had said couldn't be true. "If you have any questions, I can help you." She whispered. He was registering her words with his eyes. She realized how stuck up she must have sounded, so she quickly added, "Since you walked in late - Professor Snape likes to take every opportunity he can to take house points off of Gryffindor." His eyes snatched a quick peek to see what the Professor was up to, before returning to settle on her once more.

"Thank you."

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I'm Hermione Granger." She whispered. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry."

He couldn't help but grin. Finally, someone who treated him like he was normal. Maybe he could get through this after all. Before he could say anything back, Snape was shouting, cutting him off. Apparently, Parvati Patil had spilled her potion and the professor was not very happy. Harry glowered at him from behind his work and quickly looked away when Snape turned and strode to the front of the class.

It was a long and difficult process, but then again, Snape liked it that way. By the end of the lesson, Hermione's potion was perfect, but Snape didn't bother to congratulate her. She didn't seem to care, but sniffed disdainfully when he praised Malfoy's to no end before stopping in front of Harry's.

"Pathetic as always, aren't you, Potter?" The last word fell from his lips full of contempt. For a long moment, the two of them glared at each other.

Harry finally managed to unclench his teeth. "I managed to finish, sir." The polite, civil words were spoken in a clipped manner, the hostile edge almost razor sharp, making even Hermione flinch as he said them.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "A potion that is ineffective is worthless." He leaned close, so that Harry could smell the various fumes from different potions emanating from the professor's robes. "Evidently, your potion is _not _finished." A gleam of triumph was in his eyes. The class waited breathlessly to see what retort Harry would come up with. There was none.

The elder man's voice dropped slightly, the menacing tone not completely gone. "Tell me, is your lack of....attentiveness caused by your sickness?"

Now Harry's eyes flashed angrily. "Why you...!!"

The desired effect taken place, Snape smiled slightly, tugging at his robes. "You would dare to slander me, on your first day here?" He dropped his voice some more, to a whisper so that the class wouldn't hear. "Things are different in Hogwarts, Potter. A reminder: you're no longer in Durmstrang." He raised his voice again. "Class dismissed!"

He left, Harry staring after him hotly.

- - - - -

The dinner hall was a sea of black, as students filed in and took their seats at their respective house tables. Some students were huddled in groups, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Ron and Hermione spotted Harry sitting by himself toward the end of their table. Hermione was surprised - she would have thought that students would flock to him by the dozen. Instead, it seemed as though they did not realize he existed.

She nudged Ron, and he slunk behind her sulkily as she led the way up to him. Ron was not looking forward to having another encounter that might prove to be very similar to the one he had had earlier. Nevertheless, he followed and stopped himself from colliding with her when she stopped abruptly. "Excuse us," He heard her saying, "is it okay to sit here?"

Harry looked up, a small smile lighting his otherwise forlorn face. "Go ahead." He motioned to the seats, in a careless gesture.

Ron caught the sleeve of Hermione's robe as she made a move to sit. "I don't think this is a good idea." He sounded nervous.

"Honestly! He isn't going to bite!" Hermione hissed, smiling at Harry as she did so. He was giving them a confused look. She shook her head, exasperatedly. "As fellow Gryffindors, we should try to be nice to him. He looks so lonely." Casting another smile in Harry's direction, they took places in front of him. She was surprised at herself at her insistance. Some people were glancing their way now, the girls giving her dirty looks. They must have thought that she was interested in Harry.

Well, she was, but not in the way they thought. She had no taste for fame, she simply wanted to get to know him. He was a big celebrity, yet, at the same time, he wasn't acting like it. Her curiousity had been perked: there was something about this guy....

A sort of uneasy silence fell among them. Harry fiddled with his glasses, trying to avoid eye contact with either of them, and was relieved when their attention was taken by the food that magically appeared in front of them.

She had just taken a bite of her mashed potatoes when Harry addressed her. "Hermione Granger...right?" He fiddled with his glasses again.

She nodded, too busy chewing to give him another toothy grin. Harry looked pleased. He glanced at her seatmate. "And you are...?"

Ron glanced at Hermione quickly and put down his fork. "Ron Weasely. I met you in Transfigurations, remember?"

Harry blinked and leaned back a bit, before paling slightly. "Y-yes, I remember....." He nodded. "I think.....I think...I just forgot your name, that's all. Sorry about that." Once again, he fiddled with his glasses, and then reached for his cup of water.

Ron relaxed visibly. "S'all right, mate." When Harry made no move to take another bite of his food, he asked, "Are you finished?"

"No, I just started." His hands went out again to put down his water, nervously. He hadn't even taken a sip of it. His fingers were trembling. He placed them in his lap, to hide them from view. He could feel his anxiety start to rise and he wished that these two would leave him alone despite the fact that they were trying to be friendly. "It's just that I'm not that hungry." Harry said, shrugging. He was lying, of course, but they couldn't tell.

"Well, I'm always starving after potions." Ron informed him. "That Snape is the worst, I tell you." Harry did not say his thoughts aloud lest he say something and blunder once more. He stared down at his plate, suddenly feeling very tired.

Hermione broke a piece of her bread off, nodding in agreement. "He's always like that. I can't believe he was laying it on thick with Malfoy." She sniffed disdainfully again just at the memory. "But don't worry Harry: like I told you before, he does anything he can to take off points from Gryffindor. He looks for faults - which reminds me - he was really ragging on you today." She took a bite, before continuing. "Snape usually rags on people he really dislikes. Have you two met before?"

Harry's look darkened and answered before thinking. "Yeah, we've met before." Glumly, he picked up his fork, and pushed his portion of carrots around. His food consisted of carrots, bread and a single slice of ham. He had lost his appetite a long time ago - in fact, he had lost it the moment he had entered the dining hall and all heads had turned his direction. He hated attention, and even more to his embarrassment, it had been Professor Dumbledore who had rescued him by telling everyone that he was tired and should not be bothered. It sure made him look great. Now, he had to explain the strange argument he had had with the Potions Master.

His two companions were looking at him expectantly and he sighed, reluctantly saying, "He used to be my teacher. He left before..." he stopped himself short, realizing he what he was saying and that he was giving away too much information. He was really messing up today. He felt his anxiety rise, and he fiddled with his glasses again.

Now they were curious, and both of them leaned forward eagerly. Mentally, Harry kicked himself for slipping. Sighing again, he finished his original sentence, "He left before I got expelled...." He looked up at them, as if daring them to ask why. When they returned shocked looks and did not say anything, he got up, his cloak falling over his shoulders as he did. "Excuse me..."

Hermione watched him, her eyes wide. "W-where are you going, Harry?"

"Madam Pomfrey is expecting me." Was his monotone reply. That said, he did not wait for an answer, but left the Great Hall quickly and quietly.

Ron stared after him, licking his lips nervously and reaching for his napkin. "Pleasant lad, isnt he?"

Hermione suppressed a glare. "Ron!"

Hunching his shoulders, he shied away. Hermione had aqcuired the a habit of swatting, and lately, they had begun to get more brutal. "He's got loads of secrets, doesn't he?" He asked, trying his best to change the topic.

She glanced down at her food, tearing another chunk off her bread with her teeth. It had lost its warmth, but she hardly noticed as she reflected on Harry's words. "I'm just surprised that he knows Professor Snape." She murmured. "But..." She shook her head. "Something doesn't make sense....."

"What, that even though he's outright popular, he's a loner?" Ron snickered.

"No." Hermione stuffed the last bit of bread in her mouth. She was unhappy with Ron's snide tone of voice and waited until she swallowed before she said, "Why would he be expelled? And....why did he come here?"  
Downstairs, in the dungeons, Snape was thinking the same thing. Eyeing a bottle of dried fish bones, he mulled over the morning's events. There was more to it than it seemed - and he was not looking forward to finding out what. That Potter boy was trouble. As the fish bones went into the concoction, he couldn't help but remember. "Harry Potter," He growled between his teeth. "Why is it that you are everywhere I go?"

**To Be Continued....**

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AN: Many thanks to my Beta reader, Jae, for putting up with all my stupid little mistakes. I really hope no one has taken this idea before. I know that this first chapter might have left you in the dark, but soon, the secrets will be revealed. Before you exit this window, I just ask that you would review!!


	2. This Time

**BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa**

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good….okay fine! I don't own Harry Potter. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim though.

AN: Ah, wow, thank you so much for all your support, everyone. I'm glad people gave this story a chance. And here is my update, sorry to keep you waiting. I'm trying to gather my thoughts here, so please bear with me.

Warnings: None. Please enjoy. Rated PG.  
-Chiki

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**CHAPTER 2  
- This Time -**

Night had fallen by the time Ron saw Harry again. He was leaning against a big picture frame that had an old man in it, scowling and brandishing his cane threateningly and cursing aloud. Harry did not seem to care, as he looked off absently down the hall.

Torches hung from the walls, the fires burning brightly behind their iron cages and yet they cast a dim light in the darkness. It was enough to see with, but it gave the impression that the place was haunted.

As if that was far from the truth.

Years had worn the stones down, and the sound of dripping water could be heard faintly, coming from somewhere behind the walls. One would have supposed it to smell dank but Hogwarts' halls smelled like home.

If he would accept it as home, Harry had yet to find out.

It took Ron three calls before Harry turned around. The latter looked tired and upset, his tie around his neck loose, the clasp to his cloak was undone, leaving it hanging open, loosely.

Ron ran up to him, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. "I was supposed to show you our common room, remember? I thought I'd never find you."

Harry managed an apologetic smile. His fatigue was overwhelming and it was all he could do to stand upright. Sleep sounded like heaven, but it was not so easily gained. "Sorry about that. I….got lost."

Ron ran his hand through his hair. "Well, I guess that's understandable: Hogwarts is a huge school."

Harry pursed his lips together, fighting back a flippant response. He tended to say things he didn't mean when he was exhausted. Instead, he shrugged, clasping his cloak closed, and trying his best to at least appear presentable.

Not that Ron was any more so, as he was dressed in a worn cloak and a hand-me-down uniform. This was obvious because they looked faded and old.

Uncomfortable with the way Harry was judging him with his critical eyes, Ron shifted in his place. "Well?" he asked, trying to keep a smile on his face. He hated it when people looked down on him. He already disliked Harry, and if it wasn't for Hermione, Ron would have no business with him.

Harry seemed to apprehend, because he pushed himself off the wall wearily and nodded, silently. Together they moved down the hall, the tension between them building.

It was Harry who spoke first. "Ron, when I met you for the first time, I was…." He trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"You were high on something." Ron declared. "You were all dreamy. I was afraid you'd fall to one knee and start spouting sonnets to me."

"Oh." Harry turned pink, and then he looked angry. He tried not to direct the anger at Ron – it hadn't been his fault. "Listen, I wasn't – I mean, I didn't….."

"It's all right, Harry. It's your first day, and that's understandable too." Even if his voice sounded light, Harry could still detect a hint of confusion.

So he kept his mouth firmly closed and followed him up the staircases, stopping every so often as the stairs decided to move and shift their places. When they did, a dizzying sensation swept through the boys.

One or two students came by, and when they glimpsed Harry, started eagerly whispering to each other. Once, a Ravenclaw girl dared come forward and asked Harry to sign her hat. He did so obligingly and then turned away quickly, afraid to be asked to do so again by the girl's friends who were watching wide-eyed.

Ron was more than uncomfortable by then. He had thought that knowing a celebrity would have been fun. But this one was withdrawn; quiet - nothing like a celebrity should act. He was disappointed as he had hoped the famous Harry Potter would be friendly and outgoing. Instead, he got another stuck up snob and gods knew that there were enough of those in the school.

He couldn't understand why Hermione had insisted on making friends with him. All Ron wanted to do was get his duty over and done with and never talk to him again.

He was most grateful when they reached the portrait of the fat lady, which held the passageway to the Gryffindor common rooms. She was having her afternoon tea and she put down her teacup upon spotting them standing there.

"Well, hello! No dinner for you two?" Her voice was an airy sing-song.

"Right after I show Harry, here, the rooms." Ron told her.

"Harry?" She asked, peering at him. Her eyes flicked to his forehead. "Oh bless me! Harry Potter's in Gryffindor!" She seemed excited and quickly checked herself, settling down a bit, her face flushed. "Password?"

"Wonder root." Ron told her, and she swung open, revealing a little passage that led to a comfortable, spacious room that held rich red furniture and a grate with a fire dancing merrily.

With a sweep of his hand, Ron gestured proudly. "This is where we spend most of our time in our towers: the common rooms. The bedrooms are upstairs; your things should have been taken up already."

Harry let his eyes wander over the wonderful tapestries hanging on the walls of the room, each bearing a proud lion like that on the crest of their uniforms, in gold. The room had a cozy feeling to it, and brought forth the feeling of security if nothing else.

Ron led him up the winding staircase, past various doors. It was a maze all on its own, with each room looking like the other.

He stopped when Ron did, in front of a door that was open slightly, as if inviting them inside.

Sure enough, Harry's things were sitting on a four-poster bed towards the left of the room. A single suitcase and a cage that stood empty were the only belongings he appeared to have. Hedwig, his owl, must have been up in the owlery he remembered Dumbledore had mentioned earlier.

The bed looked very inviting, covered in rich red fabrics, the curtains pulled back. Beside the bed sat a chest of drawers, and just above that, a window that was slightly ajar, letting the night's cool air in.

Slowly, he made his way to his trunk, a battered brown thing he had acquired from a family so long ago. It had served its purpose throughout the years though, and was still in good shape. He wanted to change and sleep – even a cold bed of rocks would have been fine. He didn't think he could remain standing much longer.

"Alohamora." Harry said, pointing his wand at the lock that kept it secure. It clicked open, obediently, hanging loosely, and he began to empty it of its contents. There wasn't much, and the extra clothes he had brought with him were way too big for his scrawny self.

With nothing but the thought of his rest, he hastily began to put his things away in the provided drawers, emptying the suitcase as quickly as possible. He was unaware of a small plastic bottle that fell to the floor and rolled to Ron's feet.

Bending down to retrieve it, Ron eyed the plastic bottle curiously. Inside, were a number of bright orange pills. He had only just managed to read the label and was about to ask what they were for, when Harry snatched it out of his hands and at that, rather roughly.

Taken aback, Ron thought to explain himself. "I'm sorry…they fell…and…I didn't mean to…" He ended up stammering like a fool. What he was apologizing for, was beyond him. Yet, that furious glare that was being directed at him left him stunned and confused.

Harry's glare was more out of panic than out of anger. As much as possible, he never liked to show his sickness to anyone. He could practically hear Snape leering again, and he grit his teeth so much that his gums hurt. Seeing Ron's pale face, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to ease up a bit.

Over the years, he had become more and more hostile towards people, not trusting them. This gained him more enemies than it did friends. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had had a real friend. That, however, was a treasure denied him, forever out of his reach. He had buried that longing a long time ago, not letting it get to him, but now, he made an effort to dig that up again.

He had made a promise to himself this time, though – he would try to change. When he had received the acceptance letter into Hogwarts with the note that there was something of great importance there, he had decided. Maybe that was what Dumbledore wanted – for him to come out of his shell. It would take longer than expected though – Harry had built his walls up so high and so thick that it would be hard to tear them all down.

He stuffed the plastic container into one of his drawers and quickly slammed it shut. At a loss for words, he faced Ron again, who, in his anxiety to say the right thing, slipped up again by asking, "W-what were those for?"

Should I tell him? Harry thought, mind racing for excuses. If he told him now, his thoughts of becoming friends with someone would never become a reality. Surely Ron would tell the whole school and let everyone who would listen, know. It had happened countess times in the past. "They're…vitamins…." Harry lied, choosing the safety of his shell. "They keep me going throughout the day."

"Vitamins?" Ron repeated. He looked even more confused. "A muggle creation?" He ventured.

It was then that Harry realized that Ron was a full-bred wizard. He could always take advantage of that, as many wizarding families did not take kindly or associate with anything to do with muggles. "Yes, a muggle creation."

Before Ron could say anything more, Dean, another roommate of theirs, came crashing in, looking excited. He stopped for a moment upon seeing Harry there, and then continued. He acknowledged them both with a nod. "You guys missed the action downstairs. You won't be having dinner?"

Ron seemed to remember that it had been in his plan. He glanced at the overhead clock and heard Harry say, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry." To which Ron opened his mouth to object, but on an afterthought, decided against it. He turned to leave, his worn cloak billowing as he did so. If Harry did not want to eat, Ron did not plan to miss a meal on his account.

"Um….Ron?" Harry called. Ron froze in his steps and turned slowly to face him. "I really appreciate all your help."

Ron broke into a grin, that was strained. "No problem, Harry." He turned to leave but then turned back once more. "Are you sure you don't want to come down? You didn't each much earlier from what I remember."

Harry shook his head, a bit surprised. "No, thank you. I'm fine, really." This was the first time someone other than the doctor cared enough to remember something so meager as the last meal he had eaten.

Seeing as Harry would not be swayed, Ron exited, leaving Harry alone with Dean. His roommate was watching him as he stripped down out of his uniform, changed into his pajamas and clambered into bed.

Harry sat down heavily on his bed, feeling the fatigue sweep over him again in an almost intoxicating way. Today had been one of the longest days he could remember. He could feel himself get dizzy, and he pulled his around his body, willing himself not to get sick. When Dean asked if he was all right, Harry nodded and told him he was just tired.

His mind turned to his pills briefly, and he pushed the thought away. In a cold sweat, he pulled his curtains closed, and fell onto his pillows. He was too tired to change his clothing, the clasp to his belt at his waist digging painfully in the lower part of his abdomen. He didn't care, and fell asleep almost instantly.

- - - -

Hermione was just finishing up when Ron arrived, looking troubled. She knew he had just been with Harry, showing him around. Perhaps they had gotten into a fight because Harry was nowhere to be seen. Trust Ron to make the new student upset.

"What happened?" She demanded, as Ron took his place next to her. The empty plate in front of him suddenly filled with food magically.

"Harry wasn't hungry." Ron replied, defensively, picking up his fork.

"But he hardly ate anything earlier." Hermione said, frowning.

Ron took a bite of his chicken. "He didn't look too well." He said around his mouthful.

Hermione shot him a warning glare. "Ron, I hope you didn't get him upset."

He hunched his shoulders, guiltily. "I'm not lying, he really did look sick. And…he had a fit when I picked up the vitamins he dropped. It was like I had no right to see them."

Hermione's face puckered into that ever-thoughtful frown. "Vitamins?"

"A muggle creation." Ron thought to explain.

She sniffed disdainfully. "I know, that, Ron. I _am_ a muggle, remember?"

He turned as red as his hair, and he couldn't help but scowl at her tone of voice. She was often like that, unconsciously showing off her smarts. He knew she tried hard to keep it under control whenever she was around him, but sometimes, he blundered too much for his own good.

"Well, he's a jerk." He said, defensively. "If he doesn't want to be our friend, then we've no right to force him."

Hermione glanced down the Great Hall. It was almost empty, as most students had finished their dinners and were retreating back to their dormitories, or to their own special places of study.

The floating candles in the air would soon dim, to let everyone know that dinner was done for the night. The ceiling had been charmed to show the night sky, each star showing brilliantly like a diamond in the sky. At the high table sat the professors, all talking quietly amongst themselves, their voices a soft murmur from where she sat.

Even though there were many students, she could vividly remember Harry sitting by himself earlier that morning. "No," she stubbornly said at last. "He's not a jerk. He may just be shy."

"Well, why don't you just _date_ him already?" Ron asked, angrily. He stabbed at his food angrily, not wanting to look up and see her hurt reaction. He couldn't help but feel a bit jealous at the way she seemed so interested in the new boy.

Her hand touched his shoulder gently. "Ron, don't be upset." She told him. "If you don't want to continue, then I won't say anything, I promise."

He relaxed a bit, resentful at the way he had lashed out at her. "He's not a bad person." He admitted. "He's just….so far from what everyone expects….from what I expected….he's so…"

"Withdrawn?" Hermione supplied. "I noticed too." She watched as Ron pushed his empty plate away and then crossed one leg under her. "I'm still willing to try. He's probably tired of all that fame he gets through the newspapers. I sure would be if I were him."

Ron shrugged, helplessly. "All right, whatever you say then. It seems I have no choice." At that, Hermione smiled triumphantly, her brown eyes sparkling. He gave her a small smile back, "But I think we should leave him to his secrets."

"As to those," Remarked Hermione, "I can't help but wonder why he would get expelled from his previous school. If he did something illegal, then Dumbledore would be out of his mind to accept him here."

Ron couldn't agree more. "They say Dumbledore would take anyone in." He pointed out. "I mean, he's got Snape as a professor!"

Out of the corner of their eyes, they saw the Potions Master get up out of his seat. Hermione giggled as Ron swallowed nervously. The said professor strode out of the Great Hall without so much as a glance at them. He looked a bit upset, but then again, that was the way he always looked.

"As I was saying," Hermione said, with a laugh, "there are only so many things you can do to get you expelled. Harry doesn't look like a trouble maker."

"Those vitamins nearly drove him to kill me." Ron said, lightly. At the look on Hermione's face, he added, "I was joking. He was just upset, that's all."

She had become serious again, her lips turning down into its frown. "I wonder why? Vitamins are nothing to be so secretive about. Unless…." Her eyes widened slightly. "He must be hiding something. Did you see the label?"

Ron shifted in his seat a bit, trying to find comfort from the hard wooden bench. "I don't remember what it said."

Hermione seemed disappointed. "Well, if - "

"_No_, 'Mione!" Ron said firmly. He knew what she was going to say next. "No. I told you, we should leave him to his secrets. If he thinks you're prying into his life, then he'll get upset."

"But Ron, what if it is something illegal that he's dealing with?" Hermione protested. "If they were just vitamins, then why would he be so eager to hide them?" None of it made any sense.

She stopped abruptly when she saw Professor Dumbledore standing by them. He seemed to be in a weary mood. His robes were a dark, rich, purple color trailing the floor whenever he walked. He had a snow-white beard that came to a stop at his mid-chest. He looked at them over his moon-shaped spectacles.

"Miss Granger, I think it is safer if you leave Mr. Potter be for a couple of days." He said, not unkindly. "You might find some things that are rather…shall we say, disturbing…"

"Disturbing sir?" Ron asked.

His gaze slid to the younger boy. "He's not the regular type of student, as you have read him to be, Mr. Weasely." He knit his fingers together. They looked like gnarled tree limbs with the way they were old and weathered. He may have been old, but they knew him to be the most powerful wizard alive. "I would stay away from him, were I you." Those last words were an obvious warning as he made his way out of the dining hall.

Ron found he was having difficulty trying to find his breath. He brought his wide eyes to Hermione. She looked just as determined as before.

"Hermione…" He tried to say.

Her determined look only darkened. "Ron, don't you think it's just a little weird?" she asked.

He fidgeted, taking glances at the doors to the Great Hall where the Professor had just exited. "But you heard him…what he said…"

"That's the thing," Hermione insisted. "If he's worried, then it's not something normal."

"You look here, Hermione." It was Ron's turn to look determined. "We shouldn't come to conclusions. Maybe he just doesn't want to make friends. Period."

That could be true too. Still, she wanted to get to the bottom of it, but she knew that Ron wasn't all that eager. She tried a different approach. "He was expelled from his last school, remember? What if those pills are the reason for it? What if it happens again? We have to stop him."

At this point, Ron knew there was no point in arguing. Still, he wasn't very happy with Hermione's obsessive persistence. "Fine," He sighed. "We'll look into it." He got up abruptly, leading the way out of the dining hall. She always won.

She did not let him see her smile of satisfaction.

- - - -

Harry wasn't present at breakfast the next morning either. Because his bed had been deserted with its covers neatly drawn and his bedclothes folded atop of his pillows, Ron had thought that their newest roommate had gone down to eat. He had been mistaken as his eyes scanned the dining room. He was not at the Gryffindor table.

He found him already sitting in their first day's class, with his head in his arms. When Ron took a seat next to him, he lifted his head slightly to see who it was.

"Hey Harry…." Ron began.

"Hey." His voice was muffled and strained.

Uncertain of what to say, Ron glanced over at Hermione who was watching them curiously. Harry, much to Ron's relief, had let his head slip back down into the comfort of his arms once more.

He found it strange: Harry had gone to bed earlier than anyone, and yet, he seemed to be exhausted. He decided not to bother him, and promptly forgot all about his seatmate until McGonogall called on him.

"Mr. Potter, I hope you are paying attention."

Harry did not move, or answer.

"Mr. Potter?"

No answer.

Ron turned his head to look down at him. Finally, he reached over and shook his arm urgently. "Harry," he hissed, "wake up! McGonogall…." He trailed off when Harry did not respond, but rather, his head lolled to the side, limp. His skin was as pale as the parchment that they used to write on.

"Harry!" He tried again, but it didn't work. "Harry!" his voice raised in panic as his seatmate was clearly not responding. "Professor! Harry won't wake up!"

**To Be Continued…….**

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AN: And that's a wrap for this chapter. Thank you again to those who reviewed and who read my work. I hope to get reviews, so please enlighten me – and the next chapter should come up soon. I'm not going to give up on this story as long as those reviews come in. So please, before you exit this window, kindly click that little button down there. 


	3. Premonition

**BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa**

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good….okay fine! I don't own Harry Potter….all original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

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AN: Hello guys, sorry I'm late coming out with this chapter. I hope you guys aren't too upset. I was backlogged with school work as exams are in the following two weeks. My apologies again! Enjoy! 

**Warnings: Rated PG13 for language and some ideas with medication abuse.**

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**CHAPTER 3  
-Premonition -**

Madam Pomfrey bent over Harry's unconscious form, checking his temperature and feeling his pulse. Her round, red face was now pale, and her hand trailed swiftly over the thunder-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. She didn't look pleased at all. "He's in a cold sweat." She murmured. Experimentally, she shook him, but he did not come to. "Mr. Weasley, what happened?"

Ron, who had brought Harry to the hospital wing with Hermione and Seamus, shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know, ma'am."

She tsked in response, turning Harry's head from one side to peer in one ear, and then to the other side for the other. Hermione piped up. "Will he be okay?"

"He's weak." She announced. "Mr. Finnigan, can you please get me that pitcher of water?" She nodded toward the counter that she had in the corner. When they chanced upon her, she had been coming into the room to give medicine to another patient she had.

Doing as she bid, Seamus went off to do his task. The hospital wing was a spacious place, with two rows of beds neatly lined against the walls.

Despite the fact that it was a hospital wing, it felt comfortable. Each lamp in the room was burning dimly. Today, it seemed that there was a patient that was sensitive to bright lights. He was sitting on one of the beds, wrappings covering his eyes so that he could only turn his head in the direction of the commotion.

When Seamus returned with the pitcher, the Madam asked at what time Harry had passed out. "In class, ma'am." Seamus said. "He just wouldn't wake up."

She looked grim, setting the pitcher on the night stand next to Harry's bed. "Well, you all just run along back and tell Professor McGonogall that he's under my care, now." She made a shooing motion with her hands and all three turned to leave the room.

Hermione hesitated by the doorway, though, taking a step back. Ron and Seamus kept going, oblivious to the third party's absence. She didn't care, and made her way back into the room. Madam Pomfrey was bent over Harry again, her face puckered into a worried frown. It was apparent that she did not know what was wrong with him.

"Will he be okay?" Hermione asked the question not answered earlier.

The nurse looked up. "Oh, Miss Granger, you're still here?"

"I thought he might need help getting back to class when he wakes up." Hermione answered. She was very worried as well, but she didn't voice it out loud.

The nurse smiled patiently. "Well, he'll be waking soon hopefully. It seems he has overdosed himself on his medication."

"Overdosed?" Hermione repeated, incredulously. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey _did _know what was wrong with him after all.

Absently, the elder nodded. "Though, I'm not quite sure if it was done purposely or not. And I'm not sure by how much…." She trailed off, realizing that she had said too much.

Hermione was shocked. Overdosed? She knew for a fact that overdosing on any medication could be fatal. She glanced at Harry's pale, sunken face. He was on medication…..

She didn't get a chance to respond when Harry suddenly woke and sat up out of bed, doubling over, his arms crossed over his abdomen. He cried out in pain, his eyes opening wide, so much so that Hermione could see the whites around his pupils clearly. He fell over, stumbling out of bed, making another noise of pain.

Madam Pomfrey instantly had her hands on his shoulders, preventing him from toppling off the bed unceremoniously. He didn't seem to notice, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Gasping, he pulled away from her roughly, making a retch coming out from his open mouth. He tumbled out of the hospital bed and began throwing up.

He hurled all the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He couldn't seem to stop as he continually retched, gasps of pain and displeasure were panted in between. When that ceased, he fell over on his side, like a drunken person, away from the mess he had made. He groaned, his forehead now beaded with sweat.

Madam Pomfrey was a gentle woman, from what Hermione had seen in different circumstances. But this time, she all but picked Harry up like a limp rag doll in her plump fists and smothered him back into bed.

"Where….how….?" Harry was asking. His voice was muffled, and confused. He looked to be exhausted and in pain.

"You're in the hospital wing, Mr. Potter." Madam Pomfrey told him, arranging his robes for him as they had become a tangled mess around his body. She gave him some water. "Sit down and drink – slowly now." He obediently complied, raising the small glass up to his lips into which the nurse had poured him the water.

His green eyes took in Hermione, who had taken a step back and covered her mouth in disgust. When he had drained the cup of its contents, he handed back the glass and looked at Hermione warily when he spoke. "I'm fine now…." His voice had regained its strength despite the fact that he was trembling and pale.

But the nurse had her hand on her hips and a scowl on her lips. "Oh you most certainly are not, young man!" Even Hermione had to flinch at her shout. "Just how much do you take me for?"

Harry glanced away. "I want the truth." Madam Pomfrey commanded. "How much sleep have you gotten lately?"

Harry shrugged. "A few hours a night." His answer was slow in coming, and cautious.

"Food?"

"I eat well." Harry told her. He winced a bit, the lingering pain still running through his system.

"Liar." Hermione piped up. His gaze slid to her in a glare. "Fine," he sighed, seeing Madam Pomfrey raise an eyebrow expectantly. "I ate a small meal yesterday….." he seemed to shrink away under the gaze of the woman. "…and I didn't finish it." He grudgingly allowed.

Madam Pomfrey had taken a pad out and had been writing down his answers. She looked up in disapproval. "When was your last, real meal, Harry?"

He sighed again. "Two weeks ago. I think."

She made a sound with her throat, and began to scribble that down. "How many pills have you taken today?" She asked.

Once again, his gaze went to Hermione. "I don't remember." His voice had grown monotone, so they couldn't tell if he was lying or not. "I'm tired…." He said after a moment of silence. "And dizzy…."

"You do need rest." Madam Pomfrey said.

"Can you give me anything that will make me sleep and not dream?" Harry asked. He looked hopeful.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I do, but I won't give it to you. I don't want to mix any more chemicals in your body than you already have. Overdosing on your pills will not help you to sleep well, Harry. It would be good of you to remember that. I'm just glad you woke up."

Harry looked to be in despair. "Just close your eyes and try to sleep. I don't suppose going to class will help you at all right now." She made a move to get up and leave, but Harry grabbed her arm. "Please." He begged. "I must have them – or else _he'll_ come into my dreams…."

"No, Harry." She told him, firmly. "You were lucky to wake up this time, but if you take anything more, it is likely you will never wake again." Seeing the look on his face, she gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "You are in pain and you're exhausted, I understand. The only thing I can do is put you to sleep….but nothing more…." She took out her wand.

Harry began to protest, but Madam Pomfrey made quick of her work, and the words died from his lips. In moments, he was asleep comfortably.

"Please leave him to his rest now, Miss Granger." She said, and proceeded to clean up the mess Harry had made.

Hermione watched her as she slowly exited the room, glancing back over her shoulder to see Harry's face contort as if the pain had become unbearable.

It was when she was half-way down the hall that she heard his agonized screams. It gave her goose bumps as the screams continued, echoing in the silent hallway.

It hurt that she couldn't help him.

It hurt that she was powerless to stop his torture.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

There was a reason to his secrecy, and she had been given a little clue. Hermione was not ready to back down any more. She knew now that they were not the vitamins that Harry had told Ron he was taking. They were powerful drugs – obviously not illegal, but something that was required if Madam Pomfrey knew about them.

Rounding her way back to class, she thought about how Harry had seemed very apprehensive that she had been present when he had been answering the Madam's questions; almost as if he did not want her to hear them.

Was Harry sick? Was that why he seemed so withdrawn? Perhaps it was an illness that was life-threatening. She felt her heart twist at that thought. If he wanted to keep it a secret, then she would leave him to it – but it would be a sad journey for him without anyone to fall back on.

At the same time, she was curious to know what the medication was for. As she was prone to do, she considered the possibilities. Perhaps it was just a small cold, and he had to get rid of it. She sighed inwardly to herself. She realized that what Ron had scolded her of being nosy was true.

When she reached class again, they were still in the middle of the lesson. She met Ron's eye before taking her seat. After class, they went up together to the common rooms, sitting down in one of the chairs.

"So Harry woke up, then…." Ron said, thoughtfully. "That's a good thing. But overdosing…"

"I'm worried, Ron. What would cause him to do that?"

"Didn't you say that he said he was having trouble sleeping? What if it's his lack of sleep that made him forget the amount of medicine he'd already taken?"

That could be too. She pushed a bushy lock of hair over her shoulder, depositing her book bag on the table with a thump. "Medication is nothing to toy around with, Ron." She said. It was common knowledge that overdosing was harmful.

"Maybe Harry is suicidal, then." Ron suggested.

"Come off it Ron!" Hermione said. She couldn't help but note that he had struck a similar chord of thought in her mind, but she didn't dare say so out loud. "I can't help but wonder what type of medication it was."

Now, Ron looked ill at ease. "You really aren't going to give up, are you?"

She shook her head. "I have a feeling something's wrong – something bad is about to happen. And it all revolves around Harry." She faced him then and said seriously, "Ron, tell me what the bottle of medication's name was."

"I told you last night: I don't remember it. And if I did, it's probably not correct."

She had hoped he would remember. Maybe it was a drug she was familiar with, or she would remember having read about. And if she didn't remember or know it, she'd research it. "Do you remember what color they are?"

"Does it make a difference?" He asked, throwing his own book bag down next to hers.

Hermione's shoulders slumped in response. "Not really….are you sure you don't remember any letters to the bottle?"

Ron seemed to hesitate, forcing himself to recall the bottle he had held. He remembered reading the label before Harry had snatched it away. He remembered it vaguely, but the exact name escaped him. "_Olazine_, or something." He said finally. "But I think the name was a little longer than that, I just can't remember it correctly."

It was enough though, because Hermione's eyes had lit up. "It doesn't sound familiar, but I'll research on it." Hermione knew that he was not happy that she was digging herself deeper into Harry's situation.

"Fine, look into it." He murmured, snagging the strap to his book bag and fingering the material between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. "But since it's a Muggle drug, why not ask your parents if they know anything. It would save you time."

Hermione broke into a smile. First, because she had gotten her way again, and secondly because Ron had come up with a better solution than the one she had been thinking of.

>>>>>>>>>>

It was black - black as death. It was like wandering down a road that had no end, with no way to see what surrounded on either side, front or back. It was torture.

And then, a bright light appeared, hitting him square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him as he fell backward to the ground with alarming speed. Pain lanced through his body, and he arched his back with a cry as the pain paraded through his mind.

The light engulfed him, and he sucked in a gasp as it felt as though he was being plunged naked into freezing water. His body felt sore and stiff, and the use of his limbs were like dead weight.

"Bryce…" He groaned, knowingly. He felt his panic level heighten.

"Harry?" It was a female's voice, quiet and frightened. "Harry, Paris won't come out. He's scared…."

Harry tried to turn his head, but was unable to. "Harry….Harry help me! Paris is scared that Bryce will hurt him."

"I won't hurt him." It was a male's voice, deep as that of one who was a teenager. "I won't hurt anyone." He suddenly appeared in front of Harry, who twisted against his invisible bonds frantically. His heart had begun to pump hard, and he had to remind himself to breathe. He didn't want Bryce to come any closer. "Unless…."

Bryce looked almost like him, with dark hair and green gray eyes. His face was longer though, with a mouth that was always set into a sneer. He was taller and older too. He was a menacing presence. "Harry. It's good to see you again." All Harry could do was stare. Bryce brought his face closer. "Nothing to say?"

"Why….?" Harry managed.

His face twisted in anger, and Bryce's fist connected with Harry's stomach. "Because of you, you son of a bitch." He growled. His cool countenance and smooth voice had changed. Harry groaned from the impact of the punch. He hated encounters like these. "Why won't you let me out? You can't succeed, you know?"

Panting, Harry brought his head up to look at Bryce once more. "You can't come out, Bryce. I won't allow it – I can't."

The next punch made Harry fall back. Harry heard Paris scream in fright. "You can't keep me here!" Bryce was shouting. "You won't get rid of me!"

Harry wished he could die. In Bryce's grip he could do nothing; it was as if he were a rag doll. Why and how the brute had suddenly awoken and claimed Harry's mind, was beyond his control.

Suddenly, someone stepped in front of him, arms outstretched protectively. "Leave him alone!"

"Liliana, how good to see you again too."

She turned to face Harry, her green eyes wide. "We have got to get out of here, Harry." Her black hair fell like a curtain about her, in straight, long strands that stopped short at her mid back.

Liliana was thrown back too, skidding a few feet away from where Harry stood, her cry echoing around him. Dread built up in Harry's chest, as Bryce took a step forward. "Stay out of my way: today, Harry and I are going to have a little….talk."

Harry screamed.

He wondered if he'd ever wake up.

**To Be Continued……..**

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AN: Hi everyone! Thanks for the reviews, and thanks for your encouragement! I'm so happy to see that the HP fandom is very open to this idea. (and that no one has already claimed this idea). As to who Bryce, Liliana and Paris are, they will appear in this story a lot more. If anyone has any guesses, please leave it in your review. I'm sorry if it was a bit confusing at the end. 

Harry was dreaming, deep in a nightmare. Later on, Bryce, Liliana and Paris will begin to make sense.

So until next update, everyone, please leave me a review! The more reviews, the more I update! So please click that little button down there.


	4. Despair

**BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
CHAPTER 4**

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good….fine! Harry Potter is not mine, but all original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

AN: Hey guys, sorry I'm late with this chapter. This one is a rather dark side to it, but with the way this story is going, it's gotta be done. I can't say anything more for fear of ruining it. Congratulations to those who guessed! You were correct! And now, onward!

>Chiki

**_Warnings_: None. **

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**- Despair -**

Harry woke in a sweat in the middle of the night. He was now dressed in his pajamas instead of his school robes. Who had changed him, he had no clue. He fumbled for a moment as he slowly checked to see if each limb was working properly. He seemed to be perfectly fine, though his throat was sore and itchy.

It seemed to him as if he had been sleeping forever, and he was very happy to have woken from that nightmare. Relieved was a better word. The effects of that dream had started to fade away, but the memory of it haunted him. His fingers reached out to the side table, blindly, searching for his glasses.

The events from the day before came back to him, causing him to blush. He could not believe that he kept blundering and he buried his face in his hands. Letting out a growl of frustration, he made himself get out of bed. That was when Madam Pomfrey decided to enter.

"I take it you are feeling better, Mr. Potter?" She asked, looking him up and down. If she had heard him struggling while he slept, she gave no sign of it. Resigned, Harry could only nod.

From what he had seen looking out the window, it was the start of the afternoon already of the next day, which meant he had slept through the night. That was confirmed when he inquired just how long he had been out of it. He was glad that there seemed to be an improvement: the last time he had been visited in a dream with Bryce it had taken him a week and a half to get out of it. It was after that week and a half that Harry had decided to sleep in bits.

Still, he remembered clearly the warnings that Bryce had told him. Would he really find a way out? _Not if I swallow that whole bottle, you bastard_, Harry thought, grimly.

"Am I free to go, Madam?" He asked, when she finished writing his chart up. Unfortunately for him, he was forced to recount the dream to her. Nodding again in resignation, he began to speak.

"Paris was there….and so was Lilianna….and…him….." His mind ventured back to that dark place once more. "He said all sorts of things, and he threatened to hurt us all. He wants to come out." He raised frightened eyes to the nurse. "I'm scared." He left out some details and some threats, as they still made his stomach churn uneasily just at the thought alone.

Madam Pomfrey made no outward sign of shock, as she knew full well the extent of Harry's problem. She seemed worried though, and when he was finished, she put the chart down slowly. "I'll do everything in my power to help you, dear. But it will take some time, and it will take a lot of courage from you. I admit that I've never had this problem to deal with before, but then again, there are new cures being discovered every day for different things. Professor Dumbledore and I will see to it that you are not harmed."

Harry shook his head, feeling his blood drain from his face. "It's not about me, Madam! What if the same thing happens again? What if I - "

"-You won't. It wasn't your fault." She assured him, before he could say anything more. "If worse comes to worse, Harry, we'll protect the others as well. But in the meantime, you must fight. And you can't win the battle on your own."

He knew that. A sinking feeling in his gut clawed at him mercilessly as he realized that the battle was not going to be easy.

She instructed him to get a regular amount of sleep and to take his pills regularly, and reminded him not to overdose again. "The best way to fight is to act normal. If anything suspicious comes about, you come straight to me and report it." She picked up the charts once again. "If you'll excuse me now – I've got to get Dumbledore my report."

Harry watched as she began to leave, her robes trailing behind her.

0-0-0-0-0

It did not help that the whole school seemed to know that he had passed out during class. Excited whispers and looks flew about him as he entered the hallways. It did not seem that they knew the details and he was glad Hermione had not gone and told them what she had overheard. Still, it was hard to concentrate on his work with so many eyes watching him.

It made it harder when he was confronted in the hallway by a boy that he remembered to be in Transfigurations class, but had never acquainted himself with. Said boy was accompanied by two big guys. All three of them were clad in Slytherin robes and were intimidating.

"Potter." The pale-skinned boy sneered. It much reminded Harry of how Professor Snape always sneered at him. "You always have to be the center of attention, don't you? What's wrong? The Daily Prophet is not enough fame for you?" Harry couldn't help but hate that smirk that played on the lips of the boy before him.

Green-gray eyes flashing, Harry tried in vain to remember the boy's name but he couldn't. Just as he opened his mouth to retort a comment, a girl's voice cut in.

"Back off, Malfoy."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What's this? You have a _mudblood _protecting _you_? I thought the famous Harry Potter was too good for that." His friends snickered and two pink spots appeared on Hermione's cheeks.

"You're just jealous because you don't ever get attention." She said angrily. "Besides, someone like you doesn't deserve it."

It was Malfoy's turn to get angry. "Stay out of business that's not yours, Granger, if you know what's good for you." They glared at each other for a while, and he shot Harry a look before stalking down the hallway. His two companions followed suit.

Hermione scowled at their backs, before turning to face an upset Harry. "What did you do that, for?" He demanded.

Taken aback, Hermione answered, "I was only trying to help you."

Harry snapped, "I could have taken care of it myself, you know."

She shrugged as if to wave off his anger. "It's only your third day here, and already you're making a record for yourself."

He could feel his ears heat up with his shock and embarrassment at her words. If she was implying that he went out looking for trouble, she was mistaken. He opened his mouth to object, but then closed it: she was in a sense, correct. He was embarrassed nonetheless that he had been unable to defend himself and it had had to be a girl to tell his rival off.

She began to lead him away, and he followed her, hunching his shoulders. "Don't mind Malfoy." She told him, over her shoulder. "He's got 'nasty' printed all over him."

"Who is he?" Asked Harry.

"Draco – the son of Lucius Malfoy: a powerful, rich, and influential wizard who works in the Ministry of Magic." Her voice grew sour. "And they're a family who believes that Muggle-born children like me shouldn't be studying at a place like Hogwarts."

Harry said nothing, tucking his books under his arm as he filed that name away in his mind. He remembered Snape praising Malfoy the other day. If Malfoy was Snape's favorite student that was enough to dislike him even more.

Hermione probably didn't want to hang around him after all she'd seen and heard, so he made to leave her alone. He was surprised when she suddenly turned to face him. "Why are you snubbing everyone that tries to befriend you? You totally ignored me today in Potions."

Harry couldn't help but stare. What was she so upset for? Was the lack of his amity really something that bothered other people? It was certainly the first time something of the sort had happened to him. He ended up stammering an apology. "I-I'm sorry…." He wasn't even sure what he was apologizing for.

At that moment, Ron came running up to them. "There you are." He panted. He nodded towards Harry. "Feeling better?"

"Fine. Thanks." Harry told him, tightly.

"That's a good thing too." Hermione said. "When I heard you overdosed, I thought you wouldn't wake up."

Harry swiped a hand over his face, the feeling of frustration he had been tucking away since he'd woken up returning. "Why do you even _care_?" He demanded.

"Because friends worry about each other." was her simple response.

He was even more confused. "You really don't want to be friends with someone like me." He heard himself saying. "Besides, maybe you should listen to what Malfoy told you: Stay out of business that is not yours."

Both Ron and Hermione glanced at each other as Harry backed up, clutching his books to his chest tightly and ran off, silently berating himself for his wonderful choice of words.

Exchanging looks, Ron glared darkly after him. "Pretty much shoved our proposal for friendship in our faces." He moodily rubbed his hands together. It was getting colder outside and standing in the outdoor corridor was making him shiver.

Poor Hermione looked as if she had been slapped. Ron didn't seem to notice as he continued, saying, "I told you to back off him, Hermione. I told you he wouldn't appreciate you going through his private affairs."

She finally glanced over her shoulder wistfully. "Fine, I'm sorry. I just…" She trailed off. What exactly had she meant? She had meant to merely make him feel welcome. She supposed it was the same as reading through one's personal diary. She would have to apologize when she next saw him. She didn't want him to hold a grudge.

With the sun setting in the east, the golden rays from had turned the sky into a rich red and had left a few angry orange streaks in the sky. A few birds had begun to take flight to migrate somewhere warmer. Winter at Hogwarts did tend to get cold. Pretty soon, students would be bringing out their scarves and heavy cloaks for protection against the bitter winds of the north.

They made their way to the Library as they often did before dinner time, to catch up on some homework and to study for the upcoming exams. Most of the time, they made progress, but this day, it was a little different.

Just as they opened their books, an owl came swooping through the window, which Ron had been about to close. It was a school owl and in its talons it held a small rolled piece of parchment. Hermione untied it from its leg and gave the brown and white speckled wings a pet before the thing flew off. Luckily for them, the librarian hadn't seen as it was not allowed to have animals in the library.

"What is it?" Ron asked, finally shutting the window. Hermione had managed to untie it and unroll it. After a brief scan, she excitedly whispered, "It's from my parents."

"You actually asked them?" He sounded surprised.

She nodded vigorously, eyes scanning the brief bit of parchment. "They replied very quickly, knowing them…."

She looked anxious and excited at the same time and no sooner had he sat down at his place, when she started reading it out quietly.

_"Dear Hermione,_

_ How are you, dear? We hope school is well and we'll know you'll make us proud as always. Unfortunately, we don't know the medicine that you mentioned: Olazine isn't something we use for dentistry. We did look it up for you though, since you were so worried about it. We found a very close match to the one you described, called Olanzapine. Is that what you were meaning to say? Anyway, this medicine is found in the class of Antipsychotics and decreases unusual high levels of activities in the brain. It is a tablet taken orally once a day and it is used as treatment for schizophrenia. We hope this helps in your research for your Herbology! If there is anything else you would like to know, mail us again!_

_ Love Mum & Dad"_

Hermione finished, and brought her eyes to Ron's. She couldn't believe it. "Ron," She whispered faintly, "I was so wrong."

Ron could only raise an eyebrow in incredulity. "For your Herbology class?" He asked, teasingly.

She went pink as she let the parchment fall to the table. "I had to say _something_ to make my question credible. I can't very well come out of nowhere and ask them for that information….and I can't very well tell him that a classmate overdosed on these needed pills…."

"Of course – it wouldn't be normal." Ron said, bitingly. "Oh, but then again, he's _not_ normal anyway! He's schizophrenic!"

"Shh! Not so loud!" Hermione cried, wanting no more than to fly across the table and clamp his mouth shut. She didn't know whether to be happy with the newfound information, or faint. Instead, she felt numb.

'_You really don't want to make friends with someone like me.'_ He had said. He had tried to warn them. He had tried to distance himself, to keep his secrets to himself. The question was, would they let him know that they had discovered it? He might never forgive them for prying…and she had wanted to apologize for that too.

Ron didn't look pleased at all. "I bet you Dumbledore already knows about it." He was saying, picking up his quill and twirling it in his fingers absently. "And I bet that's the reason why Harry got suspended from his old school."

Hermione couldn't help but smirk. "Now look who's jumping to conclusions." She reached over and put her hand on his, and his eyes came up to meet hers. "Listen, Ron, I'm sorry I never listened to you…if Harry is going to get mad at anyone, it should be me."

He smiled a bit, and took her hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of hers in little circles. "Don't be silly; you're not the only one who knows his secret."

It's a secret. Hermione thought. A secret no one must find out about, so he can at least keep his dignity.

"Let's study." Ron suggested, surprising himself with the statement. He just wanted to drop the whole topic and forget it ever happened. He didn't want to stress Hermione out with his dark thoughts.

She took her hand back and bent over her books, resigned.

A secret…..

0-0-0-0-0

"Come in." the voice rang out, sharp and clear as the two figures stepped into the room cautiously. The room spiraled upward, making one have to crane their neck to be able to see the roof far above. On the walls were pictures of men and woman, all of them wizards both from the past and of the present time. They spoke in low voices, a thrum of activity behind their brazen portrait frames.

The pair swept into the room adjacent, into what seemed a study hall, where instead of pictures, there were books. Dozens of them in different shapes and sizes, in every corner, on every shelf. And right in the middle of it all, sat Dumbledore at his oak desk, his countenance serious.

Beside him sat a beautiful bird, like fire come to life, preening its red and gold feathers delicately while cocking its head toward the two invited guests in curiosity.

Dumbledore looked up over his spectacles at the two of them. "Welcome, Maje. I hope you didn't have trouble finding the place?"

"I didn't, thank you." He gestured to the figure beside him. "Hagrid was a huge help."

The headmaster looked pleased, and he addressed the half-giant. "That will be all for now, Rubeus. I have a few things I would like to discuss with….Maje. Please wait outside."

"All righ'…" Hagrid said hesitantly, and he clumped off noisily, occasionally glancing once or twice over his shoulder at the two of them, very puzzled and just as curious as the phoenix that squawked in farewell.

Dumbledore gestured to a comfortable chair - rich red in color - that was off to the side close to the desk. "Won't you have a seat, sir?"

He watched as his guest complied, taking off his cloak and throwing it over the chair's armrest before sitting down. He did not seem relaxed, however, as he sat on the edge of the seat, his fingers knitting themselves together nervously.

When he spoke, it was in a low voice that did not match the youthful face. Dumbledore quite forgot himself as he listened. "I am worried for the boy."

"Harry, you mean?" The headmaster finally asked, when he forced himself to pay attention.

Maje let out a sigh. "Yes. Harry. I'm worried that he can not hold out much longer." His fingers undid themselves and rested on his knees, on the grey material of his pants. "You know what he went through, sir. We can't have it happen again."

Sadly, Dumbledore nodded. "We have found no cure yet, Maje, and it will take a while before we get close. We have to trace it back to its roots."

"No one can ever know." Maje told him, almost desperately. His green-gray eyes flashed. "…..It _must_ remain a secret." He emphasized.

The headmaster nodded his understanding, and the phoenix beside him grew bright with flame as if it too, were agreeing. "We're doing everything we can. But young Harry must remember that he must keep quiet and be cautious, too. He will adjust eventually."

It was hard speaking of Harry in third person, when Dumbledore was looking him square in the face. At the moment though, it wasn't Harry who was present in mind. He remembered meeting Maje for the first time, when Harry had first set foot on Hogwarts' soil. It was he who had laid the boy's past out in detail and he who had begged for the help.

It was Maje who spoke with Harry's lips and was speaking once more from them, and in all truth, it made Dumbledore's spine tingle.

"Bryce scares him." Maje said. "And Bryce is fighting to come out. Harry is afraid, sir. He can't fight on for long."

Stroking his chin, Dumbledore gazed at the young wizard before him. With so many skeletons the closet, it would be harder than he thought.

"Snape has the right to know." He said finally. "I know you don't like the idea, Maje, but…"

"The boy is coming to." Maje interrupted through Harry's mouth. He didn't sound happy. "Promise me…"

"I promise to do all that I can." Dumbledore said.

"What? …Professor?" Harry's voice had returned to normal, and he blinked wearily, taking in his surroundings. "When did I…?" Maje had disappeared, and the student looked lost and confused.

To ease his panic, Dumbledore said, "Maje and I had a little chat, Harry. We're sorry to have woken you up." He had been informed that the boy had gone to take an afternoon nap after taking his pills on strict orders from Madam Pomfrey. Maje, however, had decided that was the best time for him to speak with the headmaster and Hagrid had been sent to accompany him to avoid suspicion.

Harry seemed uncomfortable as he shifted his weight. His hands went up to bury his fingers through his dark hair as he suppressed a sob.

Dumbledore couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "My boy, I'm behind you every step of the way."

Harry nodded wordlessly as he let the tears slip down his face.

**To Be Continued…..**

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AN: Ron and Hermione have found the secret, but there are as many truths about it as there are lies. I hope you guys enjoyed the last chapter, and I would really appreciate it if you would kindly review for me before you exit this page. They really keep me going, greasing the wheels in my head. 

I know this chapter was a little mundane, but next chapter it should start picking up pace. There were some answered questions, but I bet new ones have arisen! So, please review and the faster I'll update!

>Chiki


	5. Invisible

**BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa**

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good….okay fine, I don't own Harry Potter...all original ideas/characters are mine to claim.

* * *

AN: Wow, thanks for the reviews everyone! Thanks to **Thee-Unknown-Factor, optimistic girl94, Christofori's Dream, Cole, Anigym, Lightning-Storm222, Ginny M, and Mimiheart **for your encouragement. I'm truly happy to see that some people are still liking this fanfiction, and I hope that this next chapter will answer some questions that may arise. Now, onto the story! 

>Chiki

_**Warnings: None. Please enjoy**_.

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**Chapter 5  
- Invisible -**

A day passed.

Two.

On the third day, Harry could not help but wonder why Ron and Hermione had not come to pester at him. In the course of the three days past, they had not spoken to him once, not even when they were near seatmates in some classes together. It was not as if they were giving him the cold shoulder. It was more as though he did not exist to them, as they went about their daily routines.

_'Because friends worry about each other.'_

Hermione's words echoed sadly in his mind. If anything, he missed her talking to him the most. Unlike the others, she had been accepting without question and friendly despite what she knew and had seen.

Was it really so bad to make friends?

_No_, he told himself, _no_. He couldn't bear to put them at risk. He couldn't bear to be laughed at again or distanced. The way he was invisible now, he could deal with but he couldn't help but note that hollow part within himself whenever he saw them.

Once or twice he met their eyes, but it was short, before he looked away. No smile, no nod of the head, no greeting whatsoever; like the moment of shared passing had not taken place at all.

_I wanted to be invisible_. He could live with it. And so he did, for as the days went by, he lost count of the amount of classes he attended and concentrated on his homework and his studies. Soon, the thought of Ron and Hermione's friendships dwindled.

The other students seemed to let him be as well, with the occasional few that giggled as he walked by or tried small talk with him over his fame in the papers. But even that got to him, and he tried his best to stay away from the throngs of people so as not to have to deal with that.

His studies were neither good nor bad as usual. Defense Against the Dark Arts was his favorite class and it fascinated him. Professor Lupin was a jolly teacher, very easy going and very practical. But he was having a hard time in Potions and Herbology, and did not have the courage to ask someone for help. So he spent hours in the library after dinner, trying to work things out on his own. When the library closed for the night, he went back to the Common Room and there he worked until he fell asleep over his books. It had become a sort of ritual, as the weeks went by. He kept to his schedule rigorously, not missing a meal and dutifully taking his pills when he had to.

His grades began to improve, to his delight, but his nights did not. Sometimes he would wake in a cold sweat, or have a dreamless sleep, void of anything. It was getting better though and soon, his pale thin face began to get some color and start getting plump.

It was the middle of December, a week away from the Christmas holidays, when things started to move again. Everyone was getting ready to go home for the break, and Harry had made up his mind to stay at the school. Hogwarts wasn't a bad place, he realized, though he did miss the dorms of Durmstrang.

Professor Snape had become even more condescending now that the holidays were just around the bend, and had begun to load the students with homework. Harry had had his fill of it, but he wasn't ready to back down. He could practically hear Snape gloating already, and Harry vigorously dipped his quill into his ink.

The paper they had to write was about _Bolithin_, a plant that prevented boils from breaking out on the skin and was also used to soothe burns and blisters after coming into contact with something hot. The problem was listing the ingredients and the steps and figuring out how to make the potion work.

Past midnight, Harry felt himself starting to get drowsy. The fireplace was warm and cozy as he sat curled up on the love seat, books in hand and cape thrown over him. His glasses had started to slide down his nose as he nodded off into a doze, but he forced himself to wake up, blinking.

His books fell with a clatter to the floor as he sat up abruptly. His hair was a tousled mess and his clothes were rumpled and awry. He quickly bent to pick up his books but was most surprised when a hand other than his picked them up first. He followed the hand up with his eyes and saw that it belonged to Hermione.

She was dressed down in her sleeping garb, a bathrobe closed around her waist, a soft lilac in color. Her hair was bushier than ever, her round face seeming small compared to it. She held the books out to him.

"Uh….thanks…." Harry heard himself say.

Hermione smiled. "You're welcome." She hugged the bathrobe to herself for a moment before smoothing out her hair. Holding it in place with a ribbon behind her head, she sat down on the couch opposite to him. "I couldn't sleep." She announced. "I was going to the bathroom but I heard someone downstairs. I didn't think you were still up."

Harry put the book down gently on the table. "I couldn't sleep either." He mumbled. "I wanted to finish my paper…"

"Do you mind if I sit here?" She asked motioning to the couch across from him. He glanced up at her, who was looking at him expectantly. He realized that she was willing to leave him alone if he wished it. She was giving him the solitude he had asked from her. But….he suddenly didn't want to be alone. A familiar feeling had coursed through him the minute she had spoken. The feeling of longing – he didn't like being invisible.

He shrugged. "Go ahead…"

So she did, stretching herself out. She watched as he began to open his book again, trying his best to ignore her. She found herself looking down at his parchment, reading his notes and his solutions. "That's a good theory." She said after a while. "But it doesn't quite fit. If you put the ox blood in first, it will thicken and it won't let the leeks melt properly." She pushed herself into a sitting position, aware that his eyes were on her again.

"I've finished mine already." Hermione said. "Do you want me to help you with yours?"

He opened his mouth to answer that he did not need the help – he could do it on his own – but he closed it and nodded. "There are some things I don't understand." He admitted, albeit reluctantly.

Hermione practically jumped on the chance. "I'll help you as best as I can. But tonight, you look exhausted. Perhaps we can go through it tomorrow?"

Looking relieved, Harry nodded. "I guess it is rather late." He began to close his books and pile them together. His movements were slow and shaky even though he screamed at himself mentally to hurry up. But he wanted to savor the moment of talking with another person for just a little while. He had not spoken to anyone but the professors in all the time that had passed, but even in that, there had been a very small amount of words used.

Not that he was getting much further now.

"How have you been, Harry?" Her question came unexpected, the soft gentle tone of her voice causing him to blush.

"I'm fine." He said, automatically as was his reply to that question every time it was asked of him. He cringed at the answer, but his mouth seemed to work faster than his brain. It must have been the right thing to say, because Hermione seemed to look relieved.

She pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. "We were worried about you, but we thought that if you would rather be alone, we'd give you time. It's been close to a month now, but you still haven't made any friends….."

Harry thought that she was sounding all too much like Madam Pomfrey for his liking. That woman always tittered about his social life and how it was healthier for him to mingle instead of set himself apart. He couldn't help it though: mingling to him was like walking through a line of fire. He was intent on his musings when he heard Hermione saying "….but we understand if you would rather not."

_Rather not what?_

Feeling stupid, he stammered, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said…."

"We're inviting you to go with us to Hogsmeade next week." She repeated.

_We?_

"Since you've never been there before….you might want to take a look around."

It couldn't be so bad. The thought of being somewhere other than school both excited him and scared him at the same time. Having someone to talk to and hang out with….

He would no longer be invisible.

He turned his face from her. "I would be bothering you….."

She laughed. "Don't be silly. We're inviting you. We want you to have a good time." She stood up, her robes swishing as she did so. "Let's get that report finished so you don't have to worry about it anymore." She made arrangements for him to meet with her the following day right after dinner in the library before she bounded up the stairs to go to bed.  
Harry followed soon after, feeling like he was in a dream. Had he really agreed to go? Was he actually willing to go with them?

_I should stay away. I can't let them get close to me..._ one part of his mind said. _Nonsense,_ the other part intervened_, it's about time you started picking yourself out of the ashes._ His heart leaned heavily with the latter voice, and he couldn't help but feel nervous about the whole idea. He hadn't given her an answer yet, and he had plenty of time to think it over.

Climbing into bed, he felt exhaustion hit him in a wave but it was a good feeling, and for the first time in a long while, he went to sleep and had wonderful dreams.

**0-0-0-0-0**

He spoke with Hermione again during lunch the next day, before he left to go see Madam Pomfrey as his schedule demanded. When he reached her office, she noted that he seemed different.

"Did you sleep well, dear?" She asked. She was like a mother figure to him by now, as he was to report any dealings or occurrences that had happened throughout the day to her. Everything mattered, she had told him, if it might influence his sickness even more.

"Very well thank you." He replied, almost cheerfully. "And my mark in Transfigurations went up by two." He seemed giddy with the way he rubbed his hands together.

She smiled, and when she did so, her eyes wrinkled at the sides. "That's wonderful to hear." She murmured. She instructed him to walk to the weighing scale as she always did, to check and see if he had lost or gained any pounds. She was satisfied to see that he was steadily increasing in weight instead of the other way around.

She made a note of that on her clipboard before running through her checklist quickly on his health, and listened patiently to him tell her if he had had any strange behavior. For the past three weeks he seemed clean of anything, and today was no different. "My pills are running low, though." Harry told her. "I'll need a new pack soon."

The Madam nodded. "We'll get some in for you today."

As he jumped off the weighing scale, he turned to her. "Madam Pomfrey, I have a question…."

She put down the chart she was holding, using her index finger to leaf through the pages absently. "What is it?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hands in his pockets. He knew that leaving the grounds of Hogwarts was not allowed unless he had permission. After all that had happened…he knew that it was the only fair. Maje would be furious if he left without telling anyone. "A couple of….friends….asked me to go with them to Hogsmeade. Is it safe for me to go?"

Madam Pomfrey paused, looking up for a moment before returning to flip the pages. "I don't see why it wouldn't be. You need the change…but most likely Headmaster Dumbledore will assign you a chaperone."

Harry had thought the answer would be no. The idea of a chaperone made him feel a tad bit upset but he knew that if he refused he would not be allowed to leave the school premises. So he enthusiastically agreed to speak with the Headmaster, and left the office.

He had forgotten to ask who would be his chaperone, so he turned around and was making his way back when he hit someone, sending the person sprawling backward and knocking himself back a few paces.

The books the boy had been holding fell and the bottle of ink burst unceremoniously on the floor in shattered shards, the black liquid creeping its way across the floorboards. Harry stared at it for a moment, mesmerized by the way it seemed to have a life of its own, reaching its black fingers toward him. Then he heard the groan. His head snapped up to look at the boy whom he had knocked over.

It was a boy, younger than him and shorter, wearing the robes of house Hufflepuff, the symbol of the badger stitched neatly into the crest at the left-hand side of his robes. The boy seemed to be of Asian descent. He was light-skinned and had a head full of dark hair that fell in straight strands, wisps of it now sticking up in several directions as he had had a rather rough fall. He groped his way to sit up, his fingers reaching toward his books in a confused manner, head turning left and right.

He put his hand forward slowly, carefully, feeling around.

He was blind.

Quickly, Harry stooped to help him, grabbing the boy's outstretched hand and pulling him to his feet. "I'm sorry, I should have watched where I was going." The boy said, dusting off his uniform. Harry thought it weird that he said that, as he would not have been able to see anyway.

"No, it was my fault." Harry said, bending down to pick up the books. "I should have been more careful."

"Harry Potter?" The boy asked, cautiously. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry peered into the boy's face. "Yes…how can you tell…?" Instead of feeling that pit of dread whenever someone asked his name, he was amazed.

"The sound of your voice, of course." The answer was made to sound as if it were obvious and that the question should not have been asked in the first place. "My ink bottle is completely destroyed, isn't it?"

The way he switched the topic left Harry baffled. "Y-yes….I'm sorry….you can have mine. If I hadn't bumped into you, this wouldn't have happened."

The boy shrugged, carefully tucking the books back into the crooks of his arms when Harry returned them to him. "I have plenty more upstairs. Don't worry." He cocked his head to the side, staring straight at Harry with his unseeing eyes. "My name is Cecil Parley. I'm in third year." He stuck out his hand with his introduction of which Harry shook obligingly. "I don't know if you remember me…."He continued, "But when you were in the hospital wing a few weeks' back after falling into a sort of coma, I was there too."

The pit of dread that had been absent before began to curl in Harry's stomach at his words. That was the day he had overdosed on his pills, and he wished that he could see if Cecil knew of his condition, but the blank staring eyes told him nothing. He hesitated, hand lingering in the young Hufflepuff's before pulling away.

"I don't remember you." He managed to say.

"I was in the sick bed opposite you." Cecil told him. "I heard everything that had happened. I hope you're okay now?"

Anxiety turning into alarm, Harry backed away a step. "I'm fine." He whispered, no longer able to keep the tremble from his voice.

"You're not the only one with problems." The sentence made Harry freeze and stare as Cecil rearranged his books in his arms. "I know exactly how you feel."

Harry blurted, "No you don't. No one will understand what I feel or what I have to go through."

Cecil let a ghost of a smile cross his lips. "Physical problems, mental problems, there's really no difference. We're both handicapped in a way, but you have it easier, Harry. You can see – I don't think I'll ever get the chance to again."

Perplexed, Harry faltered. "Y-you used to be able to see?"

"Yes." Cecil nodded. "Before an accident. But then….you had an accident too, didn't you?"

"It was Bryce." Harry heard himself pleading. "It wasn't me…" He didn't want to touch the subject, and he wished Cecil would just shut up. "Please don't tell anyone."

Cecil waved his hand absently. "Secrets are secrets. I won't tell anyone. But perhaps, you and I are a lot more alike than you think. It was nice meeting you." He dipped his head in a sort of acknowledgement before pausing. "Can you please describe the surroundings?"

"Describe?"

"Where we are, please." Cecil said.

So Harry looked around, at the hallway. "Well, the hospital wing is just behind you to your left, and…and there is a statue of a man made of ivory close to my right side…." He trailed off, wondering what else to say and uncertain as to why exactly he was doing it in the first place. His answer came when a smile spread across Cecil's face. "Approximately 547 steps to get to the Owlery from here."

Now Harry was even more curious. "Steps?"

"I count my steps so I can get to places." Cecil explained. "I don't want to have to use a cane or ask for people's help. So I just memorize how many steps I have to take to get from one place to another." His hand went out to touch the wall. "I memorize the cracks in the wall and the feel of the wood around certain places so I know if I'm close or not. Since I bumped into you, I lost track of my count."

"You _memorize_ everything?" Harry repeated, dubiously.

Cecil winked one big brown eye. "People with problems just have to come up with their own solutions instead of living in fear of them for the rest of their lives." With that, he made his way away from Harry slowly, shuffling down the hallway.

Harry could only stare in fascination after him, his words playing and replaying in his mind before he remembered that he had someplace he had to be too: Professor Flitwick would not be happy if he was late for class again.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Hermione sat close to the back of the library, where she had seen Harry sitting by himself countless numbers of times during the last few weeks. She and Ron were sitting side by side, and Neville sat across from them, having begged Hermione for help too. Snape had snapped at him earlier and he did not want to face that again. So, she complied, and all three waited for Harry to arrive.

"Why all of a sudden, Hermione?" Ron demanded. "The guy's perfectly content by himself – please don't tell me you imposed on his life again."

She shot him a dirty glare. "He asked me to help him, too! And I do not impose on other people's lives!"

Neville hid behind his books as the two of them bickered. Pretty soon, Ron had gotten up to move and sit next to him, neither one wanting to speak to each other. That was when Harry chose to make his appearance.

"Sorry I'm late." He told them, quite breathlessly. "I had to speak with Dumbledore about….well, about going with you Hogsmeade…"

Hermione eagerly leaned forward. "What did he say, Harry?"

He nodded, slowly. "He said I could go on one condition…." He pushed his glasses up his nose, for emphasis. "I am to be back by dinner time and to see to it that I do not get separated from the group I am with." In all truth, Harry had been amazed when Dumbledore had not even suggested a chaperone. The old man had just smiled knowingly and said, _'You've got more than enough people taking care of you. I think you are capable of leaving school grounds for a day.' _

"So you're coming?" Hermione asked, excitedly.

"Do you even _want_ to come?" Ron demanded, somewhat coldly.

Harry heard it and cringed. Did Ron hate him that much? He suddenly felt very vulnerable. Maybe tagging along would only cause more tension. "If you would rather I not, let me know." He didn't mean for his own voice to be so hard and harsh.

Hermione looked from one to the other, two pink spots appearing on her cheeks. "Will you guys stop it? Harry, of course we want you to come…."

Ron never answered, he just got up and left, leaving his books and his bag on the table and did not look back. Harry stayed rooted to the spot, feeling his chest heave up and down as he struggled to control the building emotions inside of him. What had he done wrong this time? His mind swirled with his thoughts: only weeks before Ron had tried to befriend him. Suddenly, he felt light headed and sick.

He managed to sit down heavily beside Hermione, who was instantly alarmed. "Are you all right?"

Dazed, Harry nodded. "I-I just remembered….nothing. Never mind." He had to take several breaths to calm himself down. "That didn't go well, did it?"

Hermione looked in the direction that Ron had walked away in before turning back to him. "He's just upset that I invited you to come along without asking him first." She confessed. "He doesn't know how you will act around us. After all, you have been rather unpredictable."

Unpredictable was the perfect word in Harry's opinion.

Neville glanced up from his page of work. "I wish I could go to Hogmeade." He told them, mournfully. "But I haven't been doing well at all, and at this rate, McGonogall says I'm like to stay in sixth year and never finish."

Hermione shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and what had just passed between Harry and Ron. "Well then! We've got to get working – time is ticking!"

Later that night, when Harry was climbing into bed, he caught sight of Ron entering the room before he could close the curtains to his four-poster. Ron looked in his direction too, before looking away abruptly, getting his pajamas out and starting to take off his cloak.

The others in the room were already fast asleep.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the atmosphere so thick that one could almost taste it. Then, Harry said, "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Ron froze, and met his eyes slowly. "What do you know?"

"You love her, don't you? Are you jealous of the way she seems to be interested in someone other than you?"

"You're a prat." Ron snarled. "Do you honestly think you're so high and almighty that you can just brush us off at any time you want to?"

Feeling himself get angry, Harry snapped, "You don't know what you're talking about! You have no right to say that to me – you don't know about anything I have to go through."

Ron seemed to sober up, pulling his clothing on, opening the curtain to his bed and burying himself under his covers. For a long while he stayed silent and Harry thought that perhaps he had fallen asleep. But then, his muffled voice could be heard. "I do have feelings for her – I never want her to get hurt. But the way you treat her isn't fair. Hermione can stand it, but I can't. The least you could do is try to be friendly in return. I thought you were someone admirable."

Stunned, Harry peered into the dark room, not knowing what to say. Admirable? What could possibly be so admirable being as messed up as he was? "A truce, then." He said, finally. "I have never had friends before…" He never continued the sentence, afraid to say anything more.

Ron pulled the covers off his face, and sat up. "Deal."

Nothing more was said between them that night, and when Harry managed to fall asleep, he slept soundly once more.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Snape pushed the paper away, disgusted. The Daily Prophet was written by a bunch of fools. His mind went back to the letter he held in his hands, the latest report from Madam Pomfrey on Harry's condition. Apparently, the boy seemed healthier than before, and the diet they had placed him on seemed to be working, helping him to gain back that much needed weight.

He put the page down, eyeing the vials he had stored on a rack. He called them 'Potter potion'. The vials were filled with red liquid, containing Harry's blood that had been drawn for the experiments.

'Mental problems' Pomfrey had called it.

_The Potters were always mental,_ Snape thought, bitterly. Finding a cure for Harry's sickness was not in his list of priorities, but at Dumbledore's order, he obliged. So far, he was not having much success.

If there was anyone in the school who knew of Harry's condition and what he was capable of, it would be him. He had wanted to wave the paper in front of Albus' face, to prove his point – Harry was a dangerous person.

The story had been dismissed with the story of Harry surviving the Dark Lord's attack playing in more favor with the crowd. But to those who were in Durmstrang could not have forgotten the incident. He certainly hadn't.

**_THE BOY WHO LIVED HAS LOST CONTROL. _**The paper was worn and creased, and underneath the huge lettering was a photo of a boy staring blankly up at the camera, unmoving, as people stood around him wailing. Blood was all over the place, and his body had been thrown carelessly on the floor in a mangled mess.

How could one forget?

That was the day Harry had committed murder.

**To Be Continued…..**

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_Cecil Parley is my character._

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AN: And there you have it, chapter five is done. I'm sorry I haven't been updating this on a regular schedule, but I have been working on several fics this summer so I do hit this one time and again when an idea comes to mind. I am trying not to involve any of the HP books in my stories so it will not really follow any time lines that the story sets, (this is AU after all). That said, just to clarify and I hope that everyone caught it. Neville mentioned that he would not pass sixth year - therefore, Harry and the gang are in sixth year in my story. .

Please tell me what you think was it good? Did new questions arise? Did any questions get answered? Click that button! (I beg you!)


	6. Hogsmeade: Memorable Journeys

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good…..okay fine! I don't own Harry Potter. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

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AN: THANK YOU, THANK YOU for your reviews! **Mimiheart, Jaejae, Krazeyforever, Junyortrakr, Thee-Unknown-Factor, and optimistic girl94** (AU means 'alternate universe'): I can't tell you how much it means to me. Anyway, just to clarify some things: 

Cecil Parley is blind, and memorizes his way around the school so as not to appear weak or helpless to others. I have a friend who does that too, and Kojimachi was a huge school with four buildings. He managed to memorize all four floors of every building by the age of 8. . Hopefully that helped.

**_Warnings: None. Please enjoy!_**

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**Chapter 6  
- Hogmeade: Memorable Journeys -**

The _Bothilin_ paper was done quickly, much to Harry's relief. And even more to his delight, Snape could make no criticism on it. As the Professor had no proof that Hermione had helped him (since they did not seem to be on speaking terms) he had no choice but to give Harry the marks he deserved.

Hermione was just as proud of him, as they exited class together. For the first time ever, Harry laughed out loud as Ron made a ridiculous impersonation of the Potions Master sneering and getting clumsily wrapped in his robes.

The usually dark corridors were now lit up by the sun filtering through the solid glass windows. The school somehow seemed bigger, more enchanted that way, and the students seemed to be more energetic: the holidays were coming.

"Are you heading home, Harry?" Hermione asked, as they entered the Great Hall together. The rows of tables were already occupied by hundreds of students, all talking noisily and happily. The ceiling above had been spelled to look as though fresh snow was falling and even a cool breeze had been added to top off the effect.

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose, and answered, "No. I'll be staying here."

Hermione nodded. "I'll be going home and helping Mum and Dad at their clinic."

"What about you, Ron?" Harry asked, as they took their usual spots.

"I'm leaving too." He said, shrugging. "My older brother, Charlie is coming back home to celebrate it with us this year."

They managed to settle into easier chat after that, Ron wolfing down his meal while Harry mechanically ate through his. It was the usual: carrots, bread and a slice of ham. He was getting sick of the combination but he knew better than to complain: it would be while, the matron had told him, before he could eat anything more.

They spoke of many things, from classes to teachers all the way down to news and sports. While Harry did not join in on most of the conversation, content to listen, he perked up when they touched upon Quidditch.

"Does Hogwarts have a Quidditch field?" He asked, eagerly.

Ron jumped on the bandwagon. "Of course! Every house has their own team, Harry. "We have practices and tournaments every year. My brothers, Fred and George are the beaters on the Gryffindor side." He paused before exclaiming, "Bloody hell!"

"Ron! Don't curse!" Hermione scolded.

He ignored her completely. "You went to Durmstrang, right?" He asked. When Harry nodded cautiously, Ron plowed on. "That means you've met Viktor Krum – one of the best seekers ever!"

Harry glanced at his half-full (or was it half empty?) glass of water, uncomfortably. "Yeah….I've met him…."

The look of envy was very evident on Ron's face. "What's he like?"

Harry shrugged. "He's…well….he's …." He had no idea what to say. When he had been at Durmstrang, Krum had been one of the more popular people whom Harry had not associated himself with. There had been the few times where Krum had spoken to him, but that was only because they had eaten meals at the same table or because they had bumped into each other in the hallway.

Back then seemed like a memory – so unreal and so far away…those were the times when Harry had been a social outcast, despite his reputation as a survivor against the Dark Lord himself. His secret no longer hidden, Harry became an object of amusement amongst his peers in school.

Krum had been there, as Harry could recall, egging him on that night….

"…I don't know him well enough." He said, finally. "We were only schoolmates. That's it."

Ron looked disappointed at the news, but then seemed to put it out of his mind. "I don't reckon you know how to fly? We like to hold mock games during breaks, some of us. You could join us – we don't have a seeker."

That didn't sound like a bad idea. If anything, Harry loved flying, but how good he would be at the sport was something he was unsure of. He didn't want Ron to get disappointed again so he nodded. He left unsaid that he did not own a broomstick to play on though.

"I can't wait!" Dean Thomas was saying beside them, switching the topic yet again, "A Hogsmeade weekend to finish the semester!"

Others heartily agreed, and the talk changed to the town. In no time, Harry found himself wishing that the weekend was not so far away and that the rest of the week could go by faster. Unfortunately for him, he could not stay for the whole conversation, as he had to go visit the hospital wing again, but he did manage to hear snippets.

Once again, he was in a very good mood when he was examined by the nurse, and she proclaimed him 'fit as a fiddle' for any sports he might want to join. She seemed positively ecstatic that he would want to participate in anything and she strongly encouraged him to get involved as much as possible.

Later, he overheard her talking with Professor McGonogall about his progress and she mentioned his enthusiasm to play Quidditch. What McGonogall's reply to that was, he never heard.

Things were looking up for him. Getting through the last bout of classes for the semester - finally, the weekend came. After another final warning to be careful from the Headmaster, the long awaited trip to Hogsmeade began.

Snow now took the place of the brightly colored leaves that once littered the school grounds. Everywhere sat the glistening white, like cotton candy smoothed out over one very large stick. From the window of Gryffindor tower, the outside looked like a classic picture of winter on a postcard.

The boys in Harry's dormitory were hurriedly pulling on their winter gear and wrapping their cloaks about them when he awoke. Settling his glasses onto the bridge of his nose, he pushed his blankets off of himself just as Seamus bounded over to him. "Best get out of bed now, Harry." He said, gaily. "Hogsmeade is waiting for us!"

For the first time in a long while, Harry felt something rise into his chest: excitement. He couldn't remember when he had looked forward to doing anything before. It made him feel giddy and silly at the same time, but he found he didn't care. In no time, he was going down the steps with them into the common room, where most other students were gathered around, making plans with each other on where they were going to go first.

Hermione was waiting impatiently. Neville was looking on with round eyes, twisting his fingers into his robes, wistfully. "Bring me something back, would you?" He implored. They promised they would and soon, everyone was gathered outside the school premises, eagerly awaiting McGonogall's word that it was okay to leave.

"A word, if I may, Mr. Potter." She announced, pulling him to the side while the rest of the house looked on with interest. "Please remember not to wander off on your own." She whispered, sounding a trifle bit nervous. She handed him the dark blue bandana which he had been ordered to take off on his first day of classes. "And you'll want to stay as inconspicuous as possible: if Hogmeade were to hear word of your arrival…." She left the rest unsaid, and Harry blanched, nodding as he took the cloth from her.

As he rejoined his group, he tied it firmly around his forehead as he had done the morning of his classes. Luckily, the Slytherin group was huddled together on the other side of the field so Malfoy wouldn't push his nose into his business like he had before.

Ron and the others didn't question his sudden covering, thankfully, and when McGonogall gave word for them to depart, he promptly forgot about it all together. Trudging down the snowy lane a step behind everyone, he was content to be off.

Hogsmeade was well prepared for the holiday season. The thatched cottages held wreaths and glowing lights, and a bunch of people were standing off to the side of the road, singing carols. The feeling of festivity hung in the air, and everyone admired their surroundings, drinking it all in.

"It's different every year, you know." Fred Weasley was telling his twin. "They didn't have those Fragile Fairies last year." Harry looked to where he was pointing. Hanging on the veranda steps of one of the cabins was a small lantern-looking box. He got a glimpse of it was they passed by and stopped to see exactly what it was.

A small figure was inside it, still and unmoving. It had the features of a human being, but one so tiny and so small that it couldn't possibly have been one. "I think it's dead." He whispered, when the little female did not budge from her position curled on the bottom of the lantern.

"It's sleeping, Harry." Fred told him. "It's usually awake during the nights so it can shine its light."

"Shine its light?" Harry repeated.

"It's a fairy. If you look closely, it has wings. In the daytime they're practically transparent but at night they're something else." The twin explained. So Harry peered closer, and could see a small thin film draped about the figure; wings folded about herself protectively.

It was his first time seeing a fairy. "I think it is dead." He insisted. "How could it breathe locked away in a case like that?" He began to open the top, but Fred's hand came out to stop his action.

"Don't!" The older boy cried, along with his twin and Hermione. He gave them a startled look.

"They're made of glass." Hermione said, taking the lantern away from him. "They're extremely sensitive to air. It would crush their fragile bodies and wings. That's why they're called _fragile fairies?_ If you open this case, it would most likely die." She placed it gently down on to its hook again, leaving it to sway. The fairy moved slightly as if irritated by their noise and their rough handling, before settling down just as quickly.

They moved on to the joke shop, where Ron and Harry amused themselves with the funny gadgets, trinkets and candies that the twins gladly pointed out to them. Harry particularly enjoyed the Vocifest, a small necklace that fit snugly around the neck but could change your voice into that of a girl's or that of a man's. He purchased himself one while Ron bought Rewritable Ink, which would change whatever you wrote into a hilarious insult.

Moneybags considerably lighter, they walked over to the sweets' store, where hundreds of candies of all flavors, shapes and sizes were held. Ones that turned your tongue into every color of the rainbow right down to ones that moved with every lick.

It was here that his friends and he stayed for quite some time, trying to choose which candies they would try and which they would choose to bring back home. Harry looked on with interest, but did not join in. As Ron popped a piece of gum in his mouth, he turned to Harry. "Why don't you try something, mate? Everything's good."

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets beneath his cloak and shrugged. "No thank you. I don't want any." He said. But Ron caught the hint of anxiety in his voice.

"Are you allergic? Will you get sick?" he pressed.

"No." Harry said, quickly. "I just don't want any, that's all."

Hermione came up behind them, showing them her small little stash. "I got some things for Neville too." She informed them. "What did you try, Ron?"

Through his mouthful of bubble gum, Ron replied, "Weeksworth gum! This will last me a while."

"I chose Everflavored gum." She said. "Though it won't last as long as yours, my flavor won't run out."

Ron seemed disappointed. "It must have been a new one I overlooked." He groaned.

"What about you, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Ron answered for him. "He says he doesn't want anything."

She looked shocked. "Everyone knows that Honeydukes has the best candy around. Even the teachers indulge." She tossed her head, sending her bushy locks flying. "I happen to know that Professor Dumbledore has a rather sweet tooth. Are you sure you don't want to try something?"

"Chocolate cavern is pretty good." Ron informed him. "But Bertie Bott's Every Flavored jelly beans are not that bad either. Here, you can try some Crackle Chips, they're loads of fun. Like some fireworks are exploding in your mouth."

Harry held up his hands again, politely trying to decline the offers. "Really, thank you….but…" At the look on their faces, he knew they were thinking he was trying to ignore their offer of friendship again. He desperately wanted to show them that it was not the case, and at the same time he wanted to stay on the diet that Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey had placed him on. If they found out he had sweets, he would get into loads of trouble.

But it couldn't hurt to just have one….would it?

"…A-All right…I guess I'll try something….." He relented, finally. Perking up at that, Ron offered him a chocolate frog he had bought, the first thing his hand had touched. The frog blinked up at him for a few seconds before trying to jump out of the palm of his hand. Harry had to remind himself that it was not a real frog; it was only charmed to act like one.

As he bit through it, it continued to struggle against him. The sweet tangy taste of the chocolate filled his mouth and it began to water for more. It tasted so good….he didn't remember when the last time had been when he had tasted it. He liked it – a lot.

Forgetting the strict rules not to partake in anything but his given diet, he bought himself another two, eating them just as greedily. No one needed to know….

Along with the frogs came the lemon drops, jelly beans, crackers, gumballs and sugar canes. He was too excited to care if other people were staring at him.

"H-Harry..Don't you think that's too much?" Hermione asked, as he finished off his lemon drop and proceeded to polish off a sugar cane. She was embarrassed and surprised by his reaction to the candies. It was as if he had been denied them for his whole life and was just experiencing them now. He completely ignored her, off in his own little world, enjoying the taste. She tried again, tugging at the sleeve of his robe.

"You'll ruin your dinner." She warned. "Professor Dumbledore told you not to overdo it." She tugged at his sleeve again, making her way toward the door leading out.

He pulled his arm out of her grasp though, ignoring her again, his hands going out to get some more lemon drops from the shelf. "Harry!"

She was shocked when he glared at her, a defiant, angry look in his eyes. And even more surprised by the words that came out of his mouth.

"Stop calling me that – my name isn't Harry!"

**0-0-0-0-0 **

For a while no one spoke. Ron and Hermione looked stricken, and they glanced at one another. Finally, Hermione stammered, "W-what?"

"My name isn't Harry," He repeated, crossly. Harry's green-gray eyes flashed as he spoke, and they felt cold goose bumps form on their skin at the strange change Harry seemed to have gone through. His voice had gotten thin and small like that of a little boy's. Again, the two exchanged glances. Ron had blanched visibly, his freckles on his face standing out against his pale pallor.

"Bloody hell - this is it," Ron whispered. "This is the problem he wanted to keep a secret…"

She rolled her eyes, choosing to forget the fact that he swore. "Of course, Ron!"

"What do we do?"

"We have to act normal." She told him, taking a deep breath and turning her attention to the boy before her.

"A-all right then," Hermione said gently as if to appease, "I'm sorry…if you're not Harry, then who are you?"

Harry stuck out his chin stubbornly and licked at his finger. "Lilliana told me not to talk to strangers." He told her, earnestly.

Glancing around to see if anyone was paying attention, Ron was relieved to see that his brothers and the rest seemed preoccupied with their own sweets. He knew, however, that his child-like Harry would scream if they had to take him forcefully from Honeydukes. "We're not strangers, we're friends of Harry." Ron put in.

"Harry?"

"Yes, do you know him?"

The boy smiled and nodded before he ripped open his pack of lollipops and began to suck on one. Both Ron and Hermione were at a loss and they looked at each other helplessly. That their friend had suddenly turned into a child no more than 6 years of age had not been what they were expecting.

The situation got worse as Fred and George were starting to make their way back toward them and alarmed, Hermione turned to face him again, taking his hand in hers and feeling awkward about it. "Look….er…what was your name again?"

Absently the child responded, "Paris." It sounded strange coming from Harry's lips.

"Right, then…Paris…. There are some really good candies over here." She promptly began to lead him toward the back of the store again, where boxes crowded around and where it was fairly empty. Paris went eagerly, still busily sucking away on his candy.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to keep an eye out for the twins. "Ron," She kept her voice to a whisper so that Paris wouldn't hear. "You've got to distract the twins while I take Harry – Paris – outside. We can't let them see him like this! His secret would be ruined!"

Ron couldn't have agreed more. He nodded and proceeded to talk with his brothers, and meanwhile, Hermione turned her attention to the child at hand, who was pointing to Sweet Foam. "Eating too much candy is not good for you." She told him, frowning.

Paris stuck out his chin again, stubbornly. "I want it…."

She gently shook her head. "You'll get really sick. You don't want that do you? I'm sure Harry wouldn't like it either."

But Paris was not moved. He reached out his hands to get it. "I want it!" He insisted, stubbornly.

Frantically, Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see if Ron had been successful in taking away the brothers. She was relieved to see that they had moved toward a different section of the store, their backs to them. The only problem was that Malfoy and his cronies were standing right by the exit doors.

"All right, Paris…just one more treat, okay? Or else…or else I'll tell Lily that you were being a bad boy." She hoped she got the name correct, as she eyed the doorway. She reached into her bag of treats and handed him a random one. The threat seemed to work because Paris nodded vigorously. Apparently, this Lily figure was one that the child was obedient to.

Glad that he would not raise a ruckus, she began to lead him to the door. "Now listen: you won't talk to strangers, right? If – if you are really quiet, I'll show you a…a Fragile Fairy." She was desperate: if Draco chanced to see Harry as he was, he would waste no time waving it in front of the whole school.

Again, she was relieved to see that Paris seemed interested. "A real fairy?" He was asking.

"Yes." She told him absently. "But only if you keep really quiet."

"I cross my heart." Paris promised, following her.

If only they could step past the Slytherin boy without being noticed, there wouldn't be a problem at all. However, that didn't seem to work out in her favor as all her little ploys with Paris had. To her dismay, Draco went out of the way to block her path.

He looked down at her, scrutinizing. "Well, well, if it isn't the Muggle-born."

"Shut it, Malfoy." Hermione warned, looking to Paris to see if he would keep his promise of not saying a word. Luckily for her, he did, staring at Malfoy in fascination.

"Or else what, Granger? You'll sic your little Weasel friend on me?" He snickered. "Or your famous Potter pal?" He said the last bit with contempt.

Hermione's chest heaved in her anger. How she wanted to slap him, handsome face and all! "I'll be fine to hex you myself." She told him evenly. "Or are you afraid that you won't be able to keep up?"

He stepped dangerously close to her, putting his face next to hers. "I'm ready any time you are."

At that exact moment, the door opened, letting in a few elder people who looked at them disdainfully for standing in the way of the doorway. With one more contemptuous look, Malfoy lifted his eyebrows in expectation before moving aside. "I thought you were too chicken…_mudblood_." His last words were said quietly, so that none but Hermione could hear them.

Opening her mouth, she decided it better not to answer him. Paris looked near to bursting with questions and now that the Slytherin was out of the way, she could get out without being stopped. Haughtily, she held her head high as she stalked out, Paris trailing her closely.

"Was that your friend?" Paris asked, innocently, glancing behind him at the bright purple doors of Honeydukes as it closed behind them.

"Draco Malfoy will be the last person I want to be associated with." Hermione said, vehemently. She forced herself to calm down, despite the fact that she was upset that she had had no response to Draco's last taunt. "He's _not _a friend, Paris. He's a stranger you must never speak to, understand?"

Eyes lingering on the store they had just left, Paris nodded. "Can we see the Fairies now?"

Hermione glanced at the store too, seeing Ron's figure still with his brothers through the window. She hoped that Harry would come to, and soon. As fascinated as she was with his transformation into a child, she did not want to keep skirting people any longer. And she was not looking forward to playing a babysitter all day.

_'Hurry and change back, Harry!'_

**0-0-0-0-0**

To her dismay, Harry did not come to, but rather, remained as Paris. She had gone so far as to buy him a Fragile Fairy, as he so wanted one, but when he had decided to throw a tantrum at the three Broomsticks because she had denied him Butterbeer, she brought up her earlier threat of tattling to Lily.

So, Paris resigned himself to watch his sleeping fairy, very similar to the one that they had seen earlier in the day. This one, however, was a tad bit bigger than the last, and her skin was so pale, she looked almost sick. She had settled on the bottom of her jar, fast asleep, and Paris was waiting impatiently for her to wake.

Ron had joined them, later, his face pink from the coldness of the outdoors. "I've been looking all over for you two." He said, breathlessly. "Been all the way to the Shrieking Shack and back….is Harry…_Harry _again?"

"It's still Paris." Hermione sighed, taking a sidelong glance at the boy who was poking at the lantern in which his Fairy was concealed.

Ron ordered himself a mug of Butterbeer and took a seat across from them. "Well, it's almost time to get heading back: maybe Madam Pomfrey may know something…."

That had been in Hermione's mind for a while. Was it normal for him to be like this for so long?

She waited for Ron to finish his drink before getting up. "We'd better go." She told him. "Parvati has already come by with her friends, informing everyone at the Post Office that Harry was around. I had to get out of there fast, or else we would have been mobbed!"

Paris looked up suddenly. " 'Mione! My stomach hurts…"

She shrugged. "I told you, you'd get sick if you ate too much junk food."

Paris stuck out his bottom lip. "But…it hurts real bad…" Tears had come into his eyes at that point, and he opened his mouth to bawl, but Ron covered it quickly.

"Um, Paris…don't cry…let's go outside…"

But the child struggled against the restraining hand and fat teardrops fell out of the corner of his eyes. Between them, Ron and Hermione managed to get Paris outside and toward the clearing close to the Shrieking Shack.

The woods surrounding the area grew dense and the trees sprouted tall and old, their branches covered in glistening white snow. The place was empty of people – who would be so bold and daring as to spend their time outdoors in the winter weather when Hogsmeade provided warmth?

Glad for the solitude, they lowered themselves onto a rock after dusting it clean so that they could sit with Paris between them. He had taken to crying now - pressing his face into Hermione's shoulder, still not trusting Ron's presence. She patted his back and looked helplessly at Ron: there was no way they could bring Harry back to the castle like this.

Their day hadn't turned out the way they had expected at all. They waited for a while, wondering what to do, while Paris hiccupped miserably and continued to cry. In the distance, they could make out some of their classmates, heading back and Hermione was reminded of dinner and Harry's curfew.

She was surprised to see that Paris' crying had slowed down, and that he seemed to be calming.

"Paris?" She kept her voice soothing. "Are you okay?"

He never answered.

"Paris?" Ron ventured, casting Hermione a nervous glance.

Again, there was a slight pause before they heard him say, "God…how embarrassing…" his voice was muffled against Hermione's shoulder, and it sounded strained and tired. Gone was the high, tinny quality, replaced with a measurably lower one. Slowly he raised his head up, trying to push away, his cheeks tinged with pink. He could not find the courage to look up at them.

Finally, Hermione squeaked, "Harry…?"

He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "Yeah…it's me…." He put his hands in his lap, and trained his eyes on them, as though they were the most fascinating objects in the world. As he studied them, he was relieved to see that Hermione did not take hers from his back. It was a comforting gesture, and he accepted it thankfully.

"Are you all right?" She asked, flicking some snow that had accumulated on her lap off.

Wordlessly, he nodded, but then rubbed at his stomach. "How long was it?"

Ron leaned forward. "How long was what?"

"My spell? How long was it?" He sounded grim.

"Um…." He thought. " A couple of hours or so…" he trailed off and watched as Harry got to his feet. The wind picked up just then, making their cloaks billow and bringing a stinging cold with it.

"Now you know the truth." Harry said flatly, hands clenching into fists by his sides, ignoring the sudden chill that had decided to penetrate him all the way down to his bones.

Hermione tried to catch Ron's eye, to ask him whether or not they should tell Harry that they had known his secret for a while already, but Ron was too busy staring up at Harry in wonder. So she blurted, "The truth about what, Harry?"

"Don't pretend Hermione!" Harry snapped, turning to face her. At his constant rubbing of his forehead, the bandanna had become partially undone and it fell lopsidedly on his face, his lightning bolt shaped scar peeking through the blue folds. His hair was as unruly as ever, so he looked quite terrifying as he barked those words. "You know…my secret…."

Pursing her lips, Hermione glared right back at him. "We've known your secret for a while now, but we haven't spoken a word of it to anyone."

He had paled at her comment and stared at her, stricken. She ploughed on though, oblivious to his reaction to her words. "I asked my parents what that medicine was that you overdosed on was used for. They told me it was for schizophrenia." She got to her feet too. "But it doesn't matter if you have to take pills or if you're schizophrenic…"

He took a step forward, his boots crunching in the snow beneath him. "I'm not a schizo!" His voice rang out over the clearing, echoing off the trees.

Taken aback, Hermione blinked. She had been so certain that her assumptions had been correct.

"It's called Multiple Personality Disorder." Harry said, pulling his cloak about him, closer to his body. "I tend to switch personalities suddenly." He no longer sounded angry, but tired. "And those pills are to maintain my psychic balance," He looked at Ron, ruefully, "they're not vitamins."

A long silence followed, as the two companions drank in his words. The thoughts of returning to the school were temporarily forgotten as the two groped for words to say. But Harry beat them to it, saying in a cracked voice, "Now that you know…I know that you guys won't want to hang around someone like me." He gave them a brave smile. "But I'm used to that already. I just thought I'd try it once…."

"You sound pathetic." Ron could hardly believe the words came out of his own mouth. "If you think that's enough to get us to hate you, you'd better think again."

"If you're just trying to be friends out of pity - " Harry began.

"-We were your friends before we learned this about you." Hermione interrupted. "Oh Harry…don't you see? We don't care if you have this problem! If you can cope with it, then we can too!"

Harry did not know what to think. The last time someone had found out about it, the whole school had ganged up on him. He did not want that again, and he definitely did not want to bring Hermione or Ron down with him. "But…"

"I have never had a friend with Multiple Personality Disorder before…" Ron thought aloud. "We'll keep your secret safe, Harry."

Hermione nodded, helping Ron get to his feet. "We'll help you as best as we can – it's not fun to go through something like this alone…it's too lonely."

Something inside Harry twisted.

_I don't like being invisible…_

_No, no!_ His mind screamed. _They'll betray you! They'll betray you just like **he** did!_ But as he took a step forward, the wall of invisibility he had built around himself began to crumble. _One more try…just one more…_

He could hear Cecil's voice very clearly in his mind saying, '_People with problems just have to come up with their own solutions instead of living in fear of them for the rest of their lives_.' He could do it. He was tired of living in fear.

A small smile spread on Hermione's face, as she held out a hand to him. "Let's head back…or Professor Dumbledore will start to worry…."

He almost forgot about school.

His stomach gurgled unhappily at him, and he winced at the slight pain in his side. He was going to get an earful from the superiors, and he was not looking forward to it.

As they made their way back to the school in relative silence that, for once, was not uncomfortable, he wondered how he would explain to the nurse when he got there. He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Hermione say,

"Harry, Paris is sooo cute!"

He wished he could disappear on the spot.

Unfortunately for him, not all his personalities were 'cute'.

He found himself grinning, as though it was the funniest thing in the world. _They're friends now…._ "Yeah, I'll let him know you said that, Hermione."

_One more try…._

**To Be Continued…..**

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AN: Oh my, that was a very hard chapter to write, but I hope you all enjoyed it! And I hope that it answered some more questions that some of you may have. **A big shout out to Severitus **who, because of her challenge, inspired me to write this fanfic. I'm excited to hear your opinions so please, before you exit this window, leave me a review, and I'll update faster! Don't forget, leave me a review (begs).


	7. The Game

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good….oh fine, I don't own Harry Potter. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

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AN: Many thanks again to my reviewers **Ashley, anneth10, KrazeyForever, Junyortrakr, Thee-unkown-factor-Incognito, Mimiheart, and Jaejae!** I don't know what I'd do without you guys. Thank you for constantly reviewing and for putting up with me thus far. 

This chapter will take you further into Harry's depression and his sickness. It will explain what it feels like to have MPD and the reactions of others who know you have it. Some of Harry's past is revealed here too. Please enjoy!

**_Warnings: Rated PG13 for some abuse. No flames please as you have been warned._**

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**Chapter 7:  
- The Game -**

Harry's face was flushed with embarrassment as he was forced to recount what had happened in Hogsmeade while Ron and Hermione were present. The nurse clucked her tongue as she was prone to doing, shaking her head when he admitted to eating the candy (and it was here that his friends blushed with guilt).

"Well, no wonder you stomach hurts!" She all but snapped. "We gave you a specific diet for a reason."

"I'm sorry." Harry repeated. He was getting tired of apologizing, but it seemed the right (and safe) thing to do at the moment. He watched as Madam Pomfrey mixed two potions together; one thick and gloppy, the other clear and smoking.

This she handed to him and ordered him to drink. As much as he wasn't looking forward to the taste he didn't dare argue but do as he was told. As he struggled to keep it down, the nurse fretted over his temperature and told him that she would be extracting another vial of his blood to measure his blood sugar.

Twisting her robe between her fingers, Hermione studied Harry carefully. He looked tired and listless and she hoped that now, he would start to open up. She was determined to help him break out of his misery but in order to do that, she needed to know more.

All things in the light.

"Harry…." The green-gray eyes focused on her when she spoke. She pushed herself to continue, avoiding Ron's questioning gaze. "How many…well, you know…personalities do you have?'

His eyes bore into her mind, as he responded slowly. "Four, not including myself." He put the empty glass of potion down on the bedside table. "The number's stable and has been for a couple of years."

Then, he seemed to sober, as if allowing them to venture another question despite the fact that he might resent them.

"Are you aware of the other's presence?" Ron asked, taking his turn at the inquisition and shifting his chair closer to Hermione's.

This time, Harry's eyes seemed guarded and he kept his face emotionless. For a moment it seemed as though he wouldn't answer, but then, he looked away, almost as if he were embarrassed. "Sometimes I'm aware; like yesterday in Paris' case. I could hear and see what was going on…it's like watching television from far away."

"What's a '_tevenison_'?" Ron asked, blankly.

"It's a muggle creation – like watching people move inside a box." Hermione explained impatiently. "And it's not a '_tevenison_' it's a '_television_'." Her voice had gotten haughty and bossy again. "Anyway, Harry, please continue. If you can see what they're doing, then - "

" – not all the time. Sometimes they come unexpectedly. Like…like Maje does." He looked as though he were trying to find the right words to say. "It's hard to explain, so just try to understand."

Madam Pomfrey came and took the glass away while the two nodded. "Who's Maje?"

"He's the oldest personality." Harry said, watching now as the nurse came back with a small bottle and a syringe. She positioned herself next to him and began to prepare his arm by rubbing alcohol on it where she planned to poke him.

Ron's next question distracted Harry from the small pinch of the syringe biting through his flesh. "There's a girl personality…isn't there?" There was a catch in his voice and Harry looked up, only to quickly look away again, in embarrassment.

Ron moved forward, his hands absently going out to rest on his knees. "It was on the first day…she…"

"Yes, there is a girl personality." Harry finally grumbled, irritably.

"Liliana?" Hermione put in, remembering Paris' words.

Harry nodded. "Liliana."

Ron let out his breath in a rush. "She was the one who spoke to me on your first day, wasn't it? That's why you didn't remember me introducing myself to you. I thought it was weird," Ron said, more to himself than to either of them, "I knew you couldn't possibly be ga - "

"- I managed to regain consciousness when I finally realized that she'd taken over. I apologize in advance if she ever embarrasses you again." Harry interrupted hastily. His sallow cheeks had reddened slightly, and Hermione glanced at the two of them, clearly amused.

Madam Pomfrey put a stopper on the bottle containing the blood and the red liquid sloshed around when she lifted it to eye level, peering at it critically.

"Can I go, now, ma'am?" Harry asked, hopefully. There was a throbbing pain in his gut but he was tired and hungry and wanted nothing more than to escape the Hospital wing which seemed to be his second unofficial place of residence in the school.

"You most certainly may not." She snapped. "Bless me, you're in a state – have you forgotten to take your pills?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione stiffen, and he did his best not to look at her, for fear of getting scolded yet again. "I-I must have." He stammered, feeling himself start to lose confidence.

"Well, you will stay here and take your supper with me. What happens if you suddenly lapse again? It won't do to have the whole school know, now, will it?"

Harry's shoulders slumped at her words as reality of his condition sunk in once again. His mind remembered how for most of his life, he had been locked away, hidden, from society. He just wished he were normal, but it would never be. So he nodded, as usual, resigned to his fate.

Madam Pomfrey turned to his friends. "As for you two, you'd best get down to dinner or you'll not get some tonight."

Reluctantly, Ron and Hermione got to their feet shooting Harry apologetic looks. "Take care mate," the red haired boy said, inclining his head. "I'll see you up in the dormitories."

"Yes, see you." Harry told him. He was suddenly hit with an unexpected feeling as he spoke. His body suddenly felt hollow, like his insides had decided to disappear, and it was all he could do to stop himself from crumpling in a heap. Horrified, his arms went out to hug his middle, his hands shaking.

Ron and Hermione mistook his gesture as a sign of pain because of his earlier complaints of a stomach ache. But at the nurse's disapproving look, they slowly made their way out of the room.

As soon as they had gone, Harry did fall over, gasping. "Madam – what…?" His panic was setting in deep, and he found he could not control it. The uncomfortable feeling continued to spread, all the way to his fingertips so that he could not control even his hands. He turned wide eyes to the nurse.

Though the feeling was not painful at all, it was certainly disconcerting and he was rapidly wishing for the pain he had felt before au lieu of the strangeness he was feeling now.

Her hand went out to his forehead, which had started to sweat and said soothingly, "Relax, my boy – just ride this through. It'll be uncomfortable for a while, but you'll soon feel better, trust me."

It was easier said than done, and it took the boy a while to steady his breathing and calm down. Soon, the hollow feeling began to turn numb, like his inner organs had been returned but had done so in a mush.

For a good half-hour he lay there, staring at the ceiling of the hospital wing. It was a plain white color, dimmed by the lack of sufficient lighting. The hospital ward had once again become lighted with candles, casting shadows on the walls.

By the time Madam Pomfrey came to check on him, his stomach was back to normal, albeit his nerves weren't. He was served a simple meal and checked again before she deemed him ready to leave.

He sat up, oddly disoriented as he stood. He supported himself by putting his hand on the bed. "Can you please tell me the side effects before you give me a potion like that again?" He grumbled and the nurse merely smiled sheepishly. Sighing, he steadied himself looking like he was about to collapse. "Did you find anything out with the results of the blood sample?"

She shook her head. "It will take time, dear. I will let you know when we do find something out."

Feeling drained, Harry nodded.

Her hands went out to cup his cheeks in a motherly fashion. "You will be fine, Mr. Potter. You live your life as you have for the last couple of weeks. But something will be different: this time around you will have friends to support you every step of the way."

He smiled wearily, as she took her hands from him. "Doesn't it feel better, letting some of the secrets out?"

For a moment, Harry contemplated her words and realized that she was right. But, there were many things he was not yet willing to share with his new found friends.

Time.

He needed time.

In time he would tell them.

As he let go of the bed, he took a deep breath. "Thank you, ma'am. I feel much better."

"And the stomach ache?"

"It's gone." Was his confirmation.

She nodded. "I want you to promise me you'll stick to your diet. You know the consequences…"

"I promise I won't do it again." Harry told her. He was about to say more, but his eye was caught by a dazzling pink light. Blinking, he turned his head in its direction. On his beside stood the small lantern that Hermione had bought for him – well, for Paris – and the fairy on the inside had woken.

Forgetting his conversation with the nurse, he crept forward to see, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Inside, the Fragile Fairy's wings had unfolded and were now beating at the wind slowly, gracefully as the little figure turned in a circle, the light changing from a pink color to a light green.

Harry watched, fascinated, bending down to watch. The light changed to a dazzling yellow. He shielded his eyes at the brightness. As if sensing his discomfort, the color dimmed to a soft, pulsating glow. Taking his hand away, Harry tapped the glass experimentally.

The fairy drew closer, following his finger. "Hello." He whispered.

He jumped back when a faint, tinkling voice replied, "Hello." Back. She hovered next to the glass, watching him with her clear glass eyes, tinted with a hint of blue.

Amazed, Harry moved forward again. "Can you….hear me?"

The girl nodded, swinging around lazily.

Excited, Harry asked, "What's your name?"

"Don't have one." She replied. "Not yet no…"

"Oh."

"Are you my owner?" She asked.

He nodded.

Madam Pomfrey had come around to see as well. "Owners usually name their fairies." She said. "You've got a very beautiful one."

And indeed he did. The small figure had long thin red hair, and her wings were emanating a soothing blue color. He sat down on the bed, not taking his eyes off her.

"Well, what name would you like?" He asked, finally.

"Me sir? I can pick my own name?" Her tiny voice sounded incredulous.

Harry shrugged. "Well, I'd rather call you something you like."

She zoomed around her lantern a couple of times, her color switching from blue, to red, to yellow and then, back to blue. "I can't think of one, sir." She said finally, coming to a stop and settling onto the bottom of her jar. "Can you choose one for me? One that's nice and pretty…"

Harry picked up the lantern. "How about…Abcde? (Pronounced AB-SID-DEE) It's easy and simple to remember…I had a friend named Abcde once but…." He trailed off, waving his hand as if the rest of his sentence was irrelevant.

"Abcde, sir?"

"Do you like it?"

"It's wonderful!" She said, quite eagerly.

He grinned, getting up carefully, afraid to rattle her around. He should have known, of course, that she would not be affected given the state of her capabilities. When he looked at her next, she was happily somersaulting slowly in her spot.

Madam Pomfrey clasped her hands in front of her. "Would you like to spend the night, Mr. Potter?"

He tore his eyes away from Abcde, who at the moment, had taken to flying around her lantern in circles furiously, so that it looked like there was a small tornado of different colors within. "No, thank you. I told Ron I'd be up shortly – I don't want anyone to worry." He shot her a strained smile. "Thank you for everything…I wouldn't know what to do if you…." He left the rest unsaid, the implication of his sentence quite obvious: if she wasn't around, he'd have let slip the nature of his condition too early in the game.

She nodded in response, needing no words to express her welcome.

"Well…good night then." Harry said, turning his back with a glance over his shoulder.

His black robes swished at his feet when he pulled them together. His handsome face was shadowed slightly by the dim lighting. For a moment, Madam Pomfrey thought she was looking right at James as she so often had long ago. But this person was not James. His eyes spoke of Lily as well and she felt her heart twist at the thought of them so brutally murdered with just the flick of a wand and erased off the face of the earth.

Her response was delayed. "Good night, dear."

**_(0-0-0-0-0)_**

Sandoor Chek always poked his nose into other people's business. And today was no different.

"What are you reading there, Potter?" His beaky face came closer to the book that Harry was holding, and his bushy hair blocked the words of the page.

Irritated, Harry pulled it away from him. "It's just a book." He found himself growling.

Three years into his stay at Durmstrang and he still could not get used to the amount of homework that was piled on them day after day. He was stuck with his nose in a book for the most part, trying to catch up. Unlike other wizards his age, he had had no basis of any spells having not seen many of them before in his life.

The family he had stayed with back in England had tried their best to keep the fact that he was a wizard a secret. He was most glad that those days were over. For the moment, he had exams coming up and he was worried he would not pass – Professor Dimitrov usually came up with impossible-to-do spells. He hated Transfigurations.

Chek didn't seem to care for Harry's snap. "Why not come play Quidditch?" He asked. "Exams aren't for another two weeks."

"That's exactly the point, Sandoor." Harry sighed. "I'm even behind in Muggle Studies so I've got no time to play around." For the most part, Muggle Studies had been a breeze – after all, for ten years of his life he had lived with them with no contact from the wizarding world. Still, he was having trouble deciphering some Slavic words.

"Fine." Chek sighed. "Any more reading, and your glasses will swell to twice their size."

Harry put down his book, exasperated. It seemed that no matter how obvious it was that he did not want to be disturbed, he would be. "Please leave me alone, Sandoor. I'm trying to figure this out."

Chek smirked, pushing away. "All right, suit yourself." He said, lumbering away. As he left the dormitory, Harry let out a sigh of relief.

The dark-haired teenager sat cross legged on his bed, the dark brown sheets neatly folded up by the foot of it, his pillows supporting his back. He would have liked to study with other students, but apparently, the other students did not want to study with him. So he was reduced to holing himself up in his room for his study time.

His room mates were hardly ever there, and for the most part, left him alone. Finally, in the quiet he would be able to concentrate.

That silence was shattered though as he heard someone call, "Chek, don't tell me you've been inviting that _freak_ to play with us again!"

"Well, we needed another player." Chek protested. "He's not so bad."

"What are you talking about?" The voice asked, angrily. "I don't care how well he flies! He's a psychopath: he'll probably turn into that horrible child, again."

Harry felt as if he had been doused in freezing water, as he sucked in his breath. No doubt that was Mihail out there. Wand hovering over his book, he listened.

"I'm warning you, Chek: watch out or everyone will think you're a freak too." Mihail said.

"Well, if you ask me, you're all being stupid." Chek said, just as angrily. "He's not dangerous." And as to what was said after that, Harry had no clue as they walked away from the door.

A freak.

He could hear the word echoing in his mind again and again, taunting him; mocking him. It used to make him cry, that word. Now, it was just an annoying thing that flitted about his consciousness every now and then.

Eyes hurting behind their frames, he closed the book and rubbed at his temple. He had been reading for three hours straight and he deemed it time to have a break. While everyone else was outside enjoying the fresh spring air, he was reduced to the library and the solitude of his bedroom.

Shrugging on his robe, he climbed up the stairs and turned the hallway leading out of their dormitory hall. He planned to do some practice in The Square, a garden-of-sorts where students were allowed to rehearse their magical techniques during their spare time.

As he pushed his way out of the barrier separating their dormitory hall from the others, he felt the familiar tingling feeling run up and down his body as the scanner confirmed his identity before he stepped out.

More than once, students had been caught in the barrier, trying to sneak into another dormitory hall, and it hadn't been pretty.

It was when he was halfway to The Square that he realized he had forgotten to take his wand with him that he turned back, only to hear the words "_Arachne Tangora_" come from the shadows.

It was as if a huge spider had decided to weave his web across the hall and Harry had walked right into it. He was frozen in his spot, his arms and legs stuck to the sticky substance that was holding him in place and he feebly tried to release himself.

"We got a Potter bug!" A boy crowed, excitedly, coming around to face him. He was taller than Harry, and older. However, unlike him, this boy was popular and adored by almost everyone.

Emil Tsankov stood back, admiring his spell.

"Tsankov! What are you doing?" Harry demanded, but his voice was muffled by the strings that were attached to his face.

Tsankov merely laughed. "Pest control!"

His friends laughed. Among them, stood Chek who had turned pale, and beside him Mihail, who was grinning. They all held their brooms in their hands, and the box that held the Quidditch materials.

Struggling uselessly against his bonds, Harry felt his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "Okay, that's very funny: so you've caught the bug – let me go now."

But Tsankov was of a different idea. "_Stinguore_!"

A stinging pain laced through Harry's body, and he cried out from it. A few sniggers went up from the group. "I'm afraid that pests must be destroyed." He sighed. He repeated the spell, liking the way he made Harry twist with hurt.

"That's enough!" Sandoor cried, suddenly, eyes wide.

"Oh be quiet, Chek!" Mihail snapped. "We're only having a bit of…" He trailed off when they heard footsteps approaching and realized why Chek had become rigid.

Eyes watering from the lingering pain, Harry glanced up to see none other than Snape, making his way toward them. His long, greasy hair, reached past his shoulders, and every article of clothing he wore was a dark black.

"What is going on over here?" He asked quietly, surveying the web and the one who had conjured it. Then his eyes fell on Harry, who was watching him pitifully.

"Potter just walked into it, sir." Tsankov said, easily. "The dolt didn't even see it – and no wonder with glasses like those."

Again, there was a ripple of laughter. Snape's mouth turned up in amusement.

"Hexing classmates, Mr. Tsankov?"

"No, sir. Just trying to practice for the upcoming exams."

Again, Snape's eyes met Harry's. "I see. Well, it seems you have mastered this one. Potter, you have detention with me this Saturday night."

"What!" Harry cried. "What did I do?"

"Your evidential lack of defense is pathetic." Snape sneered. "Maybe you like walking around _without a wand_, so you can help clean the room without it either. Or maybe you haven't learned a proper blocking spell?"

Bristling, Harry struggled against his bonds. The raw edges of anger burned within him and he felt nothing but loathing toward Tsankov, who was grinning triumphantly. Snape seemed unruffled by the glare that was sent his way.

It was so unjust! "He suddenly attacked me out of nowhere!" He shouted, angrily. "If he wanted to practice, he should have gone to The Square!"

"Don't cry," Snape said, causing the rest of the boys to laugh at his taunt. It only caused Harry to get angrier. "I suggest you find a way down, or else you'll be there all night. Boys," he directed his attention to the others. "Dinner is waiting."

"So long, _freak_." Mihail hissed, as they passed. Tsankov waved his wand in salute to that, and march off, alongside Snape.

They left him, hanging in the hall.

Harry watched them go, wishing he had his wand. But what then? He could not hex a teacher, no matter how much he wanted to.

But the others he could….

He wanted revenge.

**0-0-0-0-0**

It was late when Harry woke next. Usually, he would be the first to rise as he was a natural early bird, and he was surprised to see that the curtains to his four-poster bed were pulled tightly closed around him. Just on the outside of it, he heard soft murmurs and slight shuffling sounds.

A feeling of claustrophobia took him, and his hands came out to rip the curtains back and out of the way. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the three faces of Neville, Seamus and Ron staring at him.

"All right there, Harry?" Neville asked, nervously. "Did we wake you?"

Harry forced himself to breathe and nod. "I'm okay."

"You don't look it." Ron said, smirking. "It looks like you saw a ghost."

Harry swung his legs up and over his bed. "If the ghost resembles you, I'd have every reason to be scared." He joked, and was surprised to hear the rest of his room mates snicker while Ron took it in stride good-naturedly.

When Harry had found his glasses and put them on, he asked, "What time is it?"

Ron bent over his suitcase, putting in an extra sweater. "It's almost noon. We brought you up some breakfast because you missed it."

"What are you doing?"

"Most people left to go home for the holidays yesterday, and we're leaving today." Ron said.

"Oh."

"It's supposed to be a vacation," Seamus muttered angrily, throwing his toothbrush into his luggage rather savagely. "Trust Snape to give us homework during it!" His toothpaste soon followed, just as angrily, before the case slammed itself shut and locked. "What will you be doing here at school for the holidays?" The question had been directed to Harry who was watching them pack sullenly. "Why aren't you going home?"

Harry's answer was immediate; quiet and monotone. "I don't have a home."

There was a slight pause before Seamus asked, "Well, where do you live then…you know, outside of school?"

Harry shrugged. "I used to live with my aunt…and then with a family in Bulgaria…"

"There's a rumor that you attended Durmstrang." Neville put in. "What's it like?"

"It's not a rumor, it's true." Harry told him, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden interrogation. "Durmstrang is not as big as Hogwarts." _And it brings bad memories_, he left unsaid. "…I guess you could say that they are stricter in some aspects. You get detention just for sleeping in – and we had homework every night with no exceptions." His lips curled into a half-sneer. "If you think Snape is bad now, you haven't seen anything yet. If you ask me, he seems a bit gentler when he teaches here."

A silence fell over them again at his dark words. Everyone had their suspicions of the Potions Master and they all had to agree that he had gotten much worse since Harry had transferred to their school. Normally, Snape would dole out detentions. Now, he seemed to seek reasons to blame every bad fault on the Gryffindors taking off house points and slipping into a terrible mood whenever Harry was around.

It had gotten so bad that everyone – including the Slytherins – were treading carefully in his presence.

"Anyway," Harry said, quietly, "Durmstrang is in the past. I hope Snape remembers that."

They continued to pack in silence, each bursting with questions to ask but all afraid to do so. It was quite clear to them that their newest roommate was not in the mood to answer anything more, and that that particular subject was closed.

Stomach growling, Harry was reminded of the food that they had so graciously brought up for him. Unfortunately, none of it was on the required diet that he had been placed on, so he had to refuse the bacon and scrambled eggs. Instead, he rummaged through his own trunk and took his bottle of pills out, slipping them casually into the sleeve of his sleeping garb before he made his way to the washroom telling them that he wanted a shower.

Ron saw the small act, and was reminded of the night before – as fascinating as it had been, he didn't want a repeat of what had happened.

Coming out of the washroom half and hour later feeling refreshed, dressed and still very hungry, Harry ambled back to his bed to fix it up.

Unlike everyone else, his things were neatly stacked onto his dresser table and his book bag was stored safely under his bed instead of lying haphazardly all over the place. The walls around his four-poster bed were empty of any Quidditch posters or photo frames. The only photo he had was a small one that stood on his dresser next to his books of his parents who were waving enthusiastically at the camera.

When everyone had finished packing and had set the room back into some semblance of order, the four trooped down the stairs toward the common room where several others stood with their baggage. Hermione was already there but she didn't look happy.

Upon seeing them, she burst out, "All everybody does is use me!"

They cast each other blank looks at her outburst. "I'm tired of giving people the answers to everything! From now on, they'll have to do their own research!"

Ron's cheeks had turned pink at her words and it was obvious that he was taking her outburst personally. "Why are you yelling at me for?"

She stopped, confused. "What? I wasn't - "

"Yes you were!" He said, angrily. "You were looking right at me!"

Hermione blinked. "I wasn't yelling at _you_!" She cried. Then, tears filled her eyes. "Oh, forget it, Ron! You just made everything worse!" With that, she grabbed her trunk with great force and slammed her way out of the portrait hole.

"Mental, that one." Ron breathed, his face now pale.

"She's on her rag." Seamus said, cheekily. "You'd better go comfort your girlfriend there, Ron."

At that statement, Ron spluttered incoherently while his room mates hooted cheerfully, following in Hermione's stead, disappearing outside the portrait door.

Sighing, Ron turned to Harry, who, try as he might, could not keep the smile off his face. "I'd best go or the train will leave without me…have a Happy Christmas Harry."

"You too, Ron. And you should catch Hermione while you're at it."

Ron smirked. "Yeah. See you in two weeks."

One moment, the room had been fairly crowded. In the next, Harry was left standing all alone. Despite that fact, he felt relief wash over him: no prodding questions, no curious stares and best of all, no hiding. However, the thought that he was alone in the castle with his instructors dampened his high spirits.

With a sigh, he resigned himself to go down to the dining hall, lest he lose his chance at lunch too and his demanding appetite would not hear of it.

The great hall was set up as usual, the ceiling overhead having been charmed to display the beautiful setting sun, a few birds flitted across the sky. The teachers were all sitting at the head table, as usual, and the house tables were set up with a few students tucked in to their meal.

Up ahead, Harry caught sight of Cecil, sitting by himself at the end of the long Hufflepuff table, and just as he was going to make his way to join him, a voice spoke.

"Mr. Potter, do you intend to stand there gawking and blocking everyone's path?" the silky smooth voice of Snape made Harry's hair stand on end.

He had half the mind to tell Snape to take another route – the dining hall was not that small – but he held his tongue, stepping aside quickly. He'd be damned if he apologized to the likes of the Potions Master. At the same time, his hunger was overwhelming and he clutched the bottle of pills that lay in his robes as he Snape pushed past him, looking like a great black bat.

He was surprised when Snape stopped and turned to face him. "Here for the holidays then?"

"What's it to you?" Harry snarled, defensively.

Snape narrowed his eyes and said nothing, turning abruptly and resuming his walk down the aisle. He took his usual seat with the other Professors, taking the opportunity to stare down at the boy over his hooked nose.

Harry decided against sitting with Cecil and took the nearest seat at the Gryffindor table, eager for the same old meal. He was joined toward the end of his lunch later, by a girl who looked winded and wet.

"Hello, Potter – or may I call you Harry?"

Through a mouthful of his bread, Harry said, "Sure, that's fine…" He couldn't help but be skeptical of her. Most girls only wanted autographs and tended to flirt. He self-consciously pushed his glasses up to settle more comfortably on the bridge of his nose.

"You may not know me," She began, sticking her hand out in introduction, "I'm the Quidditch Captain, Angelina Johnson. I was just out with our team practicing and Professor McGonogall spoke with me about you. How do you feel about trying out for our team?"

For a moment, Harry wondered if this were all a big joke. "I…what?"

"McGonogall says that you might make a good Seeker: she says Madam Hooch praises your ability to fly very highly."

Squirming in his seat, Harry dropped his fork. "I don't know…."

"I'll be looking forward to it." She told him, shaking her head and sprinkling him with little droplets of water that flew from the end of her dark ponytail. "Please think about it."

He could not help but wonder if she was playing a trick on him. He did not have long to brood on the matter, however, because just as she was going to get up and leave, his owl came through the windows of the hall, bearing with it a letter.

It was past mail time, so when Harry caught the rolled parchment, he was worried. He could not imagine who would write to him. Certainly not his relatives, and he had not made any friends back in Bulgaria who would care enough. So, curious, he broke the seal and unrolled the sheet.

_Dear Harry,_

_You are invited to my office on Saturday, December 24, promptly at 7:00pm. A very special Christmas gift is going to be delivered to you then. May you have a very restful vacation and until then, the very best._

_Regards,_

_Professor Albus Dumbledore_

Now utterly confused, Harry turned his gaze to the Headmaster, but the elderly man did not look in his direction once.

He met Snape's gaze instead, and it seemed to be staring right through him. Quickly re-rolling the parchment, Harry got out of his seat. What was going on?

**To Be Continued…….**

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_Abcde, Sandoor Chek, Mihail, Emil Tsankov, and Professor Dimitrov are my own characters._

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AN: I did some research in all the books as to what Durmstrang was like – I got a very limited amount material so I made the rest of it up. I hope it's plausible. Again, please leave me another review! Because of your reviews I wrote so much faster. The next chapter should be out again soon, so please check my profile page for the dates to the next update! It'll come all the faster if you just click that little button down there! Thank you so much! 


	8. Surprises

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good….okay, fine! Harry Potter does not belong to me. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim though.

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AN: Thanks for the encouragement my lovely reviewers! I haven't been able to write for the longest time due to continuous exams and work. But here we are – yet another chapter! Sorry to taking so long! Please enjoy. (Yay! Professor Lupin!)

>Chiki

_**Warnings: A bit of mediocreness ahead. All needed for the story though.**_

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**Chapter 8  
- Surprises -**

It was no surprise to find the hallways were deserted. The school seemed bigger and gloomier than ever, now that the students were gone.

At the end of the hall, Harry caught sight of Madam Hooch and Professor McGonogall talking with each other. It reminded him that he had yet to answer Angelina's request. Perhaps it would be better not to join…the last time he had, he had suddenly switched personalities and Paris was not fond of flying at all.

Making his way to the Hospital wing for his usual checkup, he heard Cecil's voice upon entering.

"…Still nothing, Madam."

"Well you'll have to make sure you continue to do the tests I have developed for you." She looked up and seeing Harry standing at the doorway, motioned him in. "Mr. Potter, I was wondering when I would see you today."

"Hello, Harry." Cecil said, warmly turning his head in the direction of Harry's footsteps. For some reason, his demeanor seemed to be like that of an adult's instead of one his own age. Harry liked that about him – he was not like the others who squealed or acted immature in his year.

"Hi, Cecil." He responded, stepping forward. "Did I interrupt anything?"

"No, I'm just about finished." Cecil said. "I'm going now." That said, he got up from the bed, stepping down gingerly. Today, his eyes were wound with a white bandage, so that his hair stuck up in tufts around his head when Madam Pomfrey fondly ruffled it.

As he slowly exited, Madam Pomfrey began her daily check up on Harry. He waited impatiently for her to finish before he ran out, intending to catch up to the younger boy. However, by that time, Cecil was long gone.

Disappointed, he turned around in the opposite direction, intending to go back to his dorm, only to crash headlong into someone holding a stack of papers. These papers scattered upon impact, and Harry fell back with a grunt. Wincing and dreading who it would be, he peered up.

"All right, there, Harry?" Professor Lupin asked, reaching down and offering his hand to help him up.

Relieved, Harry took the proffered hand. "S-sorry about that, sir." He mumbled. "I tend not to look where I'm going."

"My fault as much as yours." The Professor said, kindly, pulling the young man to his feet. Today, he looked shabbier than usual, his sand-brown hair a mess and his face was very pale. A few scratches were visible, but the smile he wore seemed to banish those negative factors. He bent down to pick up the papers and Harry followed suite.

From what the boy could tell, they were tests from first year students, newly graded. "Can I help you carry anything?" He asked, seeing Lupin teeter a bit with the large stack.

"As a matter of fact," Lupin hoisted the stack up gently, "I wouldn't mind some help getting these to my office."

Together, they managed to bring the papers safely down the hall and up the stairs without any falling. Harry placed his stack gingerly down on the desk once they entered.

Lupin's office was anything but dark as his subject he taught spoke of. In fact, a record was blaring is music across the room from a beautiful brass player. Colorful photos of previous Defense Against the Dark arts professors lined the wall along with several that held specimens that the students were currently studying.

There was a merry disarray to the room and it felt strangely welcoming. How anyone would be able to find anything in the clutter, Harry had to wonder. Lupin however, did not seem to care as he brushed various pieces of parchments on his desk to the side, so he could place down his stack.

With a sigh, he turned to see Harry's eyes wandering his room curiously. They fell on the professor's battered bag, which so proudly displayed his name – the very bag his loving parents had given him on his first day of school at Hogwarts when he had attended so very long ago.

Then, they fell on a jar, not quite so cleverly hidden. As Lupin made a move to distract his pupil's attention, the boy faced him.

"Wolfsbane, sir?" It was not really a question, but a demand. A look of understanding passed Harry's face as he realized why the Professor looked out of sorts that day.

Lupin smiled stiffly, on his guard as he eyed the boy. "Very good, Mr. Potter. It seems you know your potions as well as your Defense."

The slight praise earned him a grim smile in return. "Professor Snape likes to give us 'educated' detentions."

At that, Lupin laughed, sounding strained. "I'll bet you get into a right many of those?"

Harry graced him with an answer. "Not as many as I used to."

Lupin walked over to his bookshelf, picking up the bottle and storing it safely in his closet, out of view.

"You should be more careful, when trying to keep your secret safe." Harry told him, his gaze never flinching. Lupin smirked

"I'm just glad that my other students aren't as perceptive as you." He tugged his tweed jacket down to settle more comfortably around his shoulders. "I suppose _you_ would know about keeping secrets, hey?" They were provoking each other blatantly, but neither wanted to rise to the bait. As two people who had learned to be wary in every circumstance, they played their words carefully.

The look on the Professor's face turned dark as he leaned over his desk to peer at the boy before him. "Are you afraid, Harry?"

Now it was Harry's turn to bark a laugh. "Oh, _please _sir – there are worse things to fear than having a werewolf for a Professor."

"Such as?"

"Such as the night."

Professor Lupin straightened, visibly relaxing for the first time since their small spat. His smile came easier and this, he bestowed upon his student. "Yes…the night."

Harry sobered too, feeling much more at ease. "I'm glad we agree on something."

Lupin reached over and tousled his dark unruly hair. "How extraordinarily similar you are like your father – he used to keep me on my toes with his snipes too. We used to argue often, just to see who would win."

Harry listened, impassively. The most he'd ever known of his father was that he had acquired his looks and that he had had a knack for trouble. "My father is dead." He stated, flatly. "There is nothing I can do about it." A certain loathing was in his voice.

Lupin seemed to catch it. "Why so angry, my boy?"

Feeling his emotions overwhelm him suddenly, Harry bristled, his green-gray eyes flashing. "I should have died too!"

"…Harry…"

"Because they're dead, I go through hell!" His hands had fisted themselves. "Do you know what those _people_ did to me?"

"No! Harry!" Lupins hands had gone out and grasped his shoulders, shaking him. "Don't think about that. Don't dwell on your misery!" For good measure, he shook the boy again. "Do you understand?"

Those eyes had now grown wide with fear. Gently, Lupin bent slightly so that he didn't tower over the boy, furthermore scaring the child. "You must realize that there are people who love you – enough to die for you. It is your duty to live for them: if not for their sake, then for yours."

"Yes…sir…" Harry murmured, trying not to let his embarrassment show. He was letting his emotions slip so easily those days. He pulled away then, heading for the door.

"You've got a lot to be proud of," Lupin called, as he sat down in the chair behind the desk. Harry froze by the doorway at his words. "Maybe it's time you look at your qualities instead of your faults."

Harry did not respond, lingering for lengths at the door before he exited, leaving Lupin in his study, alone with his thoughts.

**0-0-0-0-0**

On the second day, Harry was miserable. Already, he had gotten into a spat with one of his Professors. Accordingly, the Professor just had to be a close friend to his late father.

Thus, he spent the rest of the day in his room, doing, of all things, his Potions homework. Strangely, it brought him comfort as he debated which ingredients worked best to make an advanced sleeping drought. _I might have to use it myself_, he thought, amused.

Flipping through his reader, he bit down on the end of his quill. It would be harmful to humans if he added too much Menthel leaves, and wondered whether animals would be affected at all by the strong substance. He found himself wondering if it would affect Professor Lupin with his condition.

Suddenly, a tinkling voice spoke from beside him. "Good day!"

Smiling, Harry set down his quill. "Hi, Abcde! Did you have a good rest?"

The fairy nodded, beating her wings excitedly. "Am I bothering, Owner?"

"No, it's okay." He said, eyeing his two page report. "I think I'm about done anyway. Could you keep that color down a bit, please?"

Her wings had turned to that bright yellow and she gasped, giggling. "Oh, right…sorry…" She turned it to a soft blue color instead.

He eyed her for a moment, as she went back to flapping around in her lantern, looking around the room interestedly from where she was positioned. Now that the lights were on, she could see things clearly, unlike the night before. "Are you hungry?" He asked.

The Fragile Fairy shook her head.

"Do you even eat?" He asked. She shook her head again, pressing her face against the lantern's glass as she gazed at the photo of his parents.

"So all you basically do is sleep?"

"Owner asks a lot of questions." She said, pushing away from the glass and her wings turning a dark purple.

Startled, Harry blinked. "Well, I've never heard of Fragile Fairies before. I don't know how to take care of one…."

Abcde twirled slowly. "We need sunlight, or we grow dull." She beat her wings and they turned a lighter shade of purple. "That's why we're usually hung outside….but I like it here in Owner's room: it's interesting to look at. I usually saw the same thing day after day and it got very boring."

Harry scratched his forehead. "Well, I guess I could move you around every once in a while. Since the sun is gone for the day, I will have to hang you by the window tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

"Lovely." She sang, her voice lilting. "Is Owner okay?"

Harry contemplated that, as he set his parchment aside. "I guess so. Abcde?"

"Yes?"

"You can call me Harry, all right? 'Owner' sounds weird."

"If Owner says so." She giggled again, bringing her thin glass hand up to her mouth. "I mean, if 'Harry' says so."

Nodding once, Harry put his quill inside its box and put the stopper in the ink bottle. As he was returning both to his bag, he saw the rolled parchment he had opened the other day in the dining hall.

_A very special Christmas gift is going to be given to you on then._

"Why couldn't Professor Dumbledore just send the gift to me?" Harry wondered aloud. "Why do I have to go all the way up to his office? I don't even know his password!"

Abcde seemed to pay his outburst no mind as she flitted across her lantern to stare at the posters that hung by Seamus' bed. So, Harry was resigned to pondering his thoughts in silence.

He wondered if Dumbledore just wished to speak to him about his sickness in private and just in case the letter had gotten into the wrong hands, they would be non-the-wiser. After all, his letter had sounded like an invitation to a party – surely he could not be the only one invited?

_Yes, _he thought, it's _just to discuss with me something dealing with my sickness._ A churning feeling started up in his stomach at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore would give him good news. Maybe they had found a cure!

"Is Harry going to go to bed now?" Abcde asked, now having turned around to face him.

That didn't sound like such a bad idea. Outside it was dark, and from the toll of the Clock Towers' chimes just moments ago, he knew it was just past 11 o'clock.

He smiled, snatching up his pajamas from the foot of the bed. "Yeah, I'm going to go to sleep. Now, turn around, I'm dressing."

**0-0-0-0-0**

The next day, Harry sat facing the lake, sitting on a rock. Perched beside him was his owl, Hedwig, seeming to blend in with the background of snow. His fingers went out to trail through her feathers, absently and she let him, pecking now and again at his arm for a treat.

It was going to be dark soon, but he did not want to go back inside. Angelina had spoken with him again during lunch that day, and had cajoled him into trying out for the team. What use it would be to join the team halfway through the school year? Still, she had persuaded him, saying that their current Seeker had gotten to be very unbearable and that she would not mind for an excuse to get him off the team.

Being such a pushover, he relented.

Eyeing the darkening sky above, he thought about the times he had flown – it was like leaving all your worries behind on the ground. If only that could happen.

Behind him, a twig snapped.

He turned his head so fast in the direction, he felt his neck crick. "Who's there?"

Rubbing at the spot dolefully, he was surprised to see Cecil, standing there. He still wore the white bandages around his eyes and he was dressed warmly in heavy robes and wore the yellow and black scarf from the House of Hufflepuff. This time, however, in his hand he held a long, slim, white cane.

At the sound of his voice, Cecil smiled. "Ah, I found you at last. Can I sit down?"

Harry blinked. "Uh…yeah, sure…how did you know I was out here?"

"I searched the school and Susan Bones told me that you'd left the building hours ago." He held up his cane as he sat. "I'm not as familiar with the outside of the castle as I am with the inside." He placed the device down by his side as he made himself comfortable on another rock.

"Is someone looking for me?" Harry asked, blinking a piece of snow that had decided to land on his eyelash, away.

"Professor Dumbledore says for you not to stay out too long or you'll catch a cold." He responded. "He told me you were sitting by the lake."

Harry looked up at the old building, as if trying to see whether the Headmaster was looking out one of its many windows. After a while, he returned his gaze to the lake in front of him. "Why haven't you gone home for the holidays?" He blurted. "Are you the same as me? You don't have a home to go to?" Abcde was right: he asked a lot of questions.

If he thought Cecil would be defensive in his answer, he was mistaken. "I have a home." Cecil said, quietly. "But a home is not a home without people."

Feeling a boldness come over him, Harry asked his next question, "What happened?"

"My parents are divorced." He said, non-chalantly. "Both are Muggles and both don't care to have me, being what I am." If he was upset about that, he hid it very well. "Still, I'm their son, and they felt obliged to continue to support me." He turned his head to where Harry sat. "I'm an outcast like you. And because of their loathing, I did the unthinkable…."

Here, the dark haired teenager decided not to prod any further. Not knowing what to do with his hands, Harry began to pick up the snow, packing it into small balls. It was cold and wet; the perfect type with which to build. So he began to make a miniature snowman by his feet. Hedwig seemed intrigued as she blinked her round eyes at it.

For a long while, there was silence, and Harry did not think that Cecil would continue. But then, to his surprise, he did. "I tried to rid myself of the magic. I tried to hex it out of me – isn't it weird? I tried to use magic to nullify my magic – well, it didn't work. It only resulted in me becoming blind. Since then…I've never seen a sunrise or a sunset…" If anything, the telling of the tale sounded very casual, as if it did not bother him in the least.

"So I live alone when I'm not in school, with a nurse who comes every two weeks to check on me," He continued, drawing his knees up to his chest and clasping his hands around them. "And I've been trying everything to get my sight back – Madam Pomfrey says that I should just go to St. Mungo's…but I don't want to miss school."

Adding a nose, eyes and a mouth with the pebbles on the ground that he had uncovered, Harry did not say anything. He didn't know what to say. All he could think of was that it was a very foolish thing to have done. But then again….what he himself had done a long time ago had been more than foolish – and there was no magic that could ever undo it.

Finally, he responded, lamely, "I'm sure you'll find a way." And as if to amend for it, he quickly added, "I mean, you managed to memorize your way through Hogwarts! It would have been reasonable if you memorized Durmstrang, but it's a mind-blowing feat for this school."

Cecil chuckled, and when he did, a misty cloud formed each time he let out his breath. "I didn't memorize _all_ of it, just the important places – it's my fetish, since I was a kid, even without being blind. I liked to count anything and everything. Call me a weirdo if you'd like, but I'm glad I do – it helps me a lot."

Finishing off his snowman and deciding that it looked very lopsided, Harry dusted his shaking fingers off from the remaining snow. He was chilled to the bone and suddenly very tired. Drawing his cloak around him more securely, he tilted his head in the direction of the younger boy. "I'm sorry to hear about your parents…and I don't think you're a weirdo. Being blind is nothing to be called a freak over." He got to his feet, helping the boy stand up.

Another wave of boldness took over him. It wasn't bad to want some company, was it? So far, the vacation period had been rather dull. "Say, Cecil, what do you say to hanging out in my dormitory tonight? I've got someone you might want to meet, and she's really nice."

"A-a girl?" Cecil asked, in a voice that squeaked. Cute. So he was shy around girls.

Harry smiled slowly. "Yeah…yeah you could say that."

Skeptical, the younger boy shrugged. "I guess so…if it's okay with you…won't we get into some sort of trouble?"

Ah, yes, trouble. "What the Professors don't know won't hurt them." He said, dusting his cloak off from the accumulating snow. His hair was soaked so that it looked just as unmanageable as ever, and a mist had formed over his glasses.

And that was how Cecil came to be in Harry's room that night after dinner. Of course, being very unfamiliar with his surroundings, the white cane was present with the boy, as he explored.

Harry had settled once more on his bed, picking up his quill and his parchment intending to tackle the essay Professor Binns had set them to deal with. It wasn't due until much later, but it was always safe to get it out of the way. He let Cecil roam around, occasionally calling out for the boy to watch his step or to elaborate on his surroundings.

The blind boy's hands finally touched upon Abcde's case, who was watching him with great interest. "Harry, what's this?"

"It's my Fragile Fairy." Harry told him before Cecil could pick it up and shake it experimentally.

Taking it as her cue, Abcde spoke up. "Hello!"

Cecil dropped the case in surprise, earning a yelp from the girl and a cry from Harry, who immediately stooped to rescue her.

"Sorry!" the young Hufflepuff cried, fumbling for his cane. His face had gotten paler and he nervously licked his lips. "Is she…is she hurt?"

"She'll be fine." Harry said, before Abcde could so much as voice a complaint. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you."

"Is this who you wanted me to meet?" Cecil cautiously drew closer, his fingers going out to splay themselves against the glass of her container.

"Yes. Her name is Abcde. Abcde, this is Cecil Parley from the House of Hufflepuff. He'll be our guest tonight."

Abcde twirled, looking to have forgotten about her fall earlier. "Hello, guest!" She switched her colors from green to blue again and again as if to impress him, but Cecil with his impairment, obviously could not give a satisfactory reaction.

He smiled shyly. "Hi, Abcde." His now unbound eyes were looking right past her, and the fairy frowned, obviously not liking the fact that her light was not being commented on. "Forgive me, I can't see you, but I'm sure you're as beautiful as your name." He said, as if reading her mind.

At that, Abcde was tickled pink – literally. Her wings shone such a bright pink that Harry could not help but wonder if somehow Cecil would be able to see it. He was glad that they were getting along. He pulled his parchment closer, wondering how to start his essay while the other two chatted.

As the night progressed, the three of them settled into a more comfortable routine. Cecil had perched himself onto Ron's bed with the Fragile Fairy in his lap, while Harry casually leant against one of the pillars of his bed, reading through the passage of his History of Magic text book.

It was hard not to fall asleep through it, as he pretty much did not care for what had happened back then. He was more interested in the here and now, not how many people had died during the Dark Ages. He was mildly interested in the old relics wizards used to use – some of the stuff had been banned, while others just did not exist anymore. What a waste. He would have liked to try some of the things out, no matter how dangerous they were.

Of course, he could not state that in his essay unless he wanted a big T on it. Sighing, he picked up his quill once more, dipping it into his ink. The Usefulness of Wandless Magic in the Olden Age was a difficult topic to talk about – he did not know nearly enough of it.

"Wandless Magic would be great to use on Snape." Harry sighed, itching to write it down but knowing he could not.

To his surprise, Cecil laughed. "I wrote something similar in my Transfigurations essay." He crossed his legs under him as he spoke. "Professor McGonogall gave me an A for my comments on how Professor Snape would look better as a tea cozy." He stuck out his tongue, playfully. "I guess I deserved that."

Harry joined in on the laughter, dipping his quill again into his ink. "I'm sure Professor Binns won't mind a little Snape-bashing."

**0-0-0-0-0**

They were woken up quite suddenly, to a strange sound. A small crash and a muffled hoot caused the pair of them to jump upright in bed.

Cecil turned his head in the direction of the sound, while Harry pulled his covers off, moving toward the open window. Fluttering just inside of it was an owl who seemed extremely cross having had to wait for a long while before someone had noticed her.

She was covered in snow, which she promptly shook herself free of, and beside her, sat a very long parcel. Upon seeing someone awake, she hooted once more, as if demanding a treat after having delivered something so large and cumbersome. Harry decided to indulge her, giving her a niblet that belonged to Hedwig.

The owl hooted once more, taking flight in the room to perch onto Harry's bed, preening her feathers as she watched him crouch beside the package.

"A delivery?" Cecil wondered aloud, having heard the sound of wings and an owl cry.

"Yes." Harry murmured, fumbling his way over to his desk to get his glasses and then stoop once more before the package. He tried to blink away his sleep, but only resulted in yawning.

"Who's it from?" Cecil asked, leaning forward, scratching his head and yawning, too.

Harry picked it up, the weight of it surprising him. It felt very familiar. The brown paper surrounding it did not speak of who had sent it. It read 'Mr. Harry Potter, Dormitory, Hogwarts Castle.' But apart from that, nothing more. "It doesn't say…" Harry murmured.

Cecil had now grabbed his cane and had cautiously felt his way across the room to where Harry sat, still holding the package aloft.

"Well, open it, then." The younger boy said, excitedly.

Harry yawned again, and clumsily did as Cecil had bid him, unwrapping the package and letting out a small gasp. Inside, was a note. At first, the letters made no sense, and Harry quickly realized that it was in a different language. It said, _"You forgot to bring this with you when you left us. Keep in touch – Filip_."

A broomstick looked up at him, the words "_Aerovis 3000_" carved into its handle in shining gold lettering. A grin lit Harry's face, at the sight of it, and he reverently traced the word's letters as he contemplated the note that had come along with it.

Bulgarian….

Filip.

Well, what a very pleasant surprise indeed. The last time Filip had spoken to him had been during his first year in Durmstrang – and that was before he had found out about Harry's sickness. After that, he had steered clear like everyone else.

Filip had been Harry's first ever friend…

_Why all of the sudden?_ Harry wondered, as he lifted the broom from its wrappings. He hadn't bothered to contact him at all throughout his stay at Durmstrang…

Pushing the wrapping paper away, Harry felt the familiar wood beneath his fingertips. This same broom had been discarded and left behind purposely, after the incident with Paris. He was glad to see it again, despite the embarrassing memories it brought with it.

"May I?" Cecil asked, breaking his train of thought.

Reluctantly, Harry let it go, watching as Cecil fumbled to find his wand that was trapped somewhere in his school bag.

"What are you…?"

"_Specialis Revelio_." Cecil said, tapping the broom lightly. When nothing happened, he handed the broom back. "Just checking, see, to make sure that this hasn't been jinxed in any way."

"Thanks." Harry said, taking it back. "I never thought of that."

Cecil yawned again and jumped when the owl decided that she had rested enough and that it was time to fly once more. She spread her great wings and flapped, making it to the window and into the night sky. In her lantern, Abcde glowed a bright orange, as if to get some attention.

Harry ignored her, picking up the paper littering the floor. "Sorry about that owl waking you up," he said, as he placed the paper into the wastebasket in the corner. "I never expected it to fly in either." He placed the newly acquired broom under his bed, as Cecil climbed back into Neville's bed that he had borrowed for the night.

Taking a glance at the clock, he realized that it was only 4:56 in the morning, and rubbing at his forehead tiredly, he clambered back into his own bed.

"You have no excuse to not join the Gryffindor Quidditch team now," Cecil said, falling back onto his pillows with a grin, "With an Aerovis, you've got a better chance against the Slytherins' Seeker."

Feeling as if his brain were stuffed with cotton, Harry asked, "Who's the Slytherin's Seeker?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Oh joy.

The thought of playing against that spoiled brat made Harry feel queasy. As Cecil dropped back off into sleep, he lay awake, unable to find a comfortable position to lie in. The fact that Filip had written to him kept plaguing his mind and finally, he pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and began to write a letter back.

It felt odd to write in Bulgarian again and was surprised he still knew how.

_Dear Filip,_

_Thanks for sending me the Aerovis._

He paused, not knowing what else to write. Finally, he put his quill to the paper again.

_Professor Snape teaches here, too. If not for him, I would be perfectly happy staying here at Hogwarts. And I've got **real** friends here so maybe I can start over. I miss Bulgaria – I'll definitely visit there when I have the chance. I'm hoping to hear from you again._

_>Harry_

He rolled the page up after re-reading it and set it by his table so that he could send it tomorrow with his owl. He knew that he had been rather crude with his wording, but he felt they were true. He was tired of being used and discarded.

Taking his glasses off, he fell back in bed as well, and into a peaceful slumber which included dreams of him flying with the rest of the Gryffindor team, laughing and being cheered on.

**To Be Continued….**

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AN: Thanks so much guys for reading! I hope that the chapter has intrigued you even in the slightest bit. Again, I apologize for not being able to update very quickly, but do remember that I live for your reviews. Do be kind to leave me one again! **Also, if anyone is interested in joining the yahoo group I created, you can find it on my profile page – this will enable you to find out about updates and my thoughts on the story, etc**.

Don't forget! Leave me a review! (PLEASE?)


	9. The Gift

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good….all right fine! Harry Potter does belong to me, but all original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

AN: THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! I can't express how happy I am to get them. I would love to get to 100 reviews for this story and that will make me so happy. More would make me ecstatic! This chapter will move faster, I promise and I'm finally getting somewhere. I'm all excited. I hope you guys like it.

_**Warnings: None. Please enjoy! **_

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CHAPTER 8  
- The Gift -**

A week passed by surprisingly fast, and Harry found himself spending more and more time with his new-found friend that he did not pay attention to the time. The two had connected very well; boys with disabilities that understood each other far better than anyone else.

Cecil turned out to be quite amusing when he spoke of his thoughts on the teachers. He excelled well in Charms and surprisingly enough, History of Magic. Harry was impressed: with Professor Binns he could never stay alert enough to understand what the teacher was talking about. If anything, he used the class to catch up on some much needed rest if he hadn't had a good night's sleep.

Cecil liked to read, Harry learned, and he did so by using a spell that Madam Pomfrey had taught him. The spell was complicated, something usually learned by students who were taking their NEWTS, but, being determined not to lose his precious love of books Cecil had mastered it. It allowed him to raise the words off the page and trace them with his fingers. As he traced them, they would enter his mind's eye so he could read. He was a bigger bookworm than Hermione.

The coolest thing was that he was very perceptive. If Harry lied, Cecil would know.

"It's in the way you sound." Cecil was saying, as they crossed the corridor after they had exited the library. "It's so obvious when someone is lying. Their voice turns all sweet and goes up a tone higher than it normally would." He was no longer using his cane, but walking steadily next to Harry as they chatted.

He had found that the young Ravenclaw had learned how to talk while he counted his steps, but he helped steer the boy anyway, allowing him to forget about counting so long as he was around.

Now, they walked up toward the second floor, with Cecil intending to hand his finished essay to Professor Binns early so as not to have to worry about it later. The two of them had finished all their homework for the holidays and were now enjoying what was left of the vacation.

Professor Binns was surprised at the early turn-in but was pleased non-the less. Before he could launch himself into a boring speech that would surely put Harry to sleep standing up, they excused themselves saying that they had to go finish their research for Herbology.

As they walked away, Harry put out an arm to stop Cecil from colliding with a girl who had just turned the corner. Surprised, Cecil let out a sound of confusion as he stumbled back two paces.

A group of girls had stopped their giggling and chatter at the sudden contact. They were from Slytherin as they were all dressed in their uniforms and were making their way down the hall.

For a moment, they eyed Harry up and down before turning and doing the same to Cecil. Finally the girl in the front spoke. "You are standing in our way, you know." She had a haughty, bossy tone of someone who thought themselves to be above others. She had long shining blond hair that fell down her back in straight strands, and cold blue eyes. She was taller than them, and older it seemed. She was so beautiful that Harry quite forgot how to speak.

"S-sorry…" He heard Cecil stammer.

Her gaze slid to Harry who was standing there with his mouth agape as he stared. "What are you looking at?" She asked, impatiently.

Feeling himself flush, Harry blinked stepping back a little. "Uh…nothing…sorry…"

Sniffing in disdain, the girl threw her head back, letting her long hair whip with the motion. "I know _you_. You're the new kid that transferred from Durmstrang right?"

Wordlessly, Harry nodded. Inside, he felt a funny sensation of warmth when he heard that: he could not believe someone like her would take the time to remember who he was.

"So you're Harry Potter, huh?" She eyed him critically. "You're not as cute as they say you are."

He felt that warmth in his stomach start to subside at her words. Feeling himself blush harder, he opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come. "I'm Paige Hart." She continued, oblivious to his discomfort. "Do take care to remember that, won't you?" She winked as she and her friends walked off, some of them glancing occasionally over their shoulders at them. "I'll see you around, Potter."

A numb feeling of shock had now taken course of Harry's body as he watched them disappear down the steps. Paige was both intimidating but polite – and he didn't know whether he liked or disliked her. He found himself thinking that Malfoy and she would make a good couple with their attitudes.

"Paige Hart…." Cecil murmured, his unseeing gaze locked somewhere on the stairwell. "Not a very friendly person, is she?"

"Not very." Harry agreed. But he was thinking about her last words to him, and wondered what exactly she had meant.

"And she just brushed me aside." Cecil said, irritably.

"She brushed me aside too." Harry told him, even though she hadn't. For a moment he feared that Cecil would know that he was lying, but was immensely relieved when the boy did not say anything and merely nodded. "You be careful, Harry: the Hart family is known to be trouble makers."

Feeling a need for lighter conversation, Harry said, "I'm a trouble maker too, Cecil, but that doesn't bother you, now, does it?"

That earned him the smile he was looking for and the two of them walked off down the hallway.

"So," Cecil said, brightly, eager for a change of topic. "What are we going to be doing today?"

Harry shrugged, and automatically looked toward the large glass window that was situated right at the end of the hallway. Bright sunlight was streaming in and it seemed to be a clear, snowless day. Maybe Hedwig would return with a letter from Filip today – the past week had been storming with huge gales and so much snow that Mr. Filch had had to wrestle with the grand doors of Hogwarts Castle just to make it outside, what with the snow piled up so high. Harry deemed that this was the reason why his owl had not yet returned from its journey.

Speaking of which…

Harry remembered Filip's sent package and asked, "I don't reckon you know how to fly, do you?"

Minutes later, the two were in the sky, soaring about freely.

From a window on the fourth floor, a pair of eyes watched them

**0-0-0-0-0**

The Dinner Bell had just rung by the time Harry and Cecil came back in. Outside, the wind had picked up, and with it came the snow. It looked like another full-blown winter storm was planned.

Breathless, happy, and very, very cold, the two stumbled inside, clutching their broomsticks in their dragonskin-covered hands.

"I've never had that much fun before." Cecil said, eagerly as they swept their way up the stairs, Harry leading the way. "I've always been scared out of my wits to try it – not that I wasn't scared out of my wits today, mind you."

"You're a good flyer, for someone who was afraid to take off." Harry told him, sincerely. He had kept a careful eye on the boy, who, in the air, had had no sense of direction whatsoever.

Looking elated, Cecil wrapped his cloak about him tighter. "I'd love to do it again, sometime, if you wouldn't mind." He said as he turned to make his way toward the Hufflepuff dormitories.

Harry nodded. "Sure, if the weather's good." He was feeling particularly happy himself, the experience of flying welcome after so many years of absence. His Aerovis had performed well and had responded to his every touch. He had wanted to test his speed, but had not dared to leave Cecil unattended.

As they parted, Harry pulled off his gloves, tucking them safely in the pockets of his cloak. The Fat Lady seemed in a festive spirit with the way she seemed decked out in holly and garland. "Password?" She asked, cheerfully.

"Unctuous Unction." He responded, and stepped into the tower when she swung aside to let him enter.

A few students who were sitting on the rug next to the fire, looked up when he entered. They were a gaggle of girls, most likely first years, and they began to whisper and blush as he went by them.

Ignoring them all together, Harry hurried up to his room, deposited his cloak and his broom carelessly on the bed, and went to wash up before dinner. When he returned, Abcde was awake, twirling in her lantern happily.

"Hello, Harry." She said, almost dreamily.

"Hi." He said, throwing on a different t-shirt as his first one had been soaked through and through with snow.

"Can Harry switch my position?" She asked, hopefully, as he ran a brush through his hair and made a dash for the door.

At her words, he stopped, and turned around. He picked her lantern up and placed her by the window, where she could watch the night sky. Turning a bright pink color in appreciation, she turned her attention to the outdoors.

"See if you can spot Hedwig coming back." He told her, before exiting the room.

He was reminded of Filip's letter, and wondered what the weather in Bulgaria could possibly be like. Very cold winters had toughened Harry against the bitter winds of England but he still shook from the adventure he had had outside.

When he entered the Great Hall, his mind floated from Filip's letter, to that of Dumbledore's when he saw the festive decorations that had been placed up in the Great Hall.

Four huge pine trees stood by the tables, each decorated with the colors of their respective Houses. Gold and red tinsel had been placed in great quantities on the Gryffindor tree, the head of a lion adorning the very tip. Magnificent streamers and decorations had been added as well; it was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever laid eyes on. Durmstrang's decorations seemed dim compared to those of Hogwarts.

They certainly outdid themselves, as fresh snow seemed to be pouring down from the bewitched ceiling, and floating baubles hung in clusters above the tables, and garland was strung about the room from corner to corner.

Christmas was only two days away.

That meant Harry was to go to Dumbledore's office the very next night – he had almost forgotten.

The food was delicious too, and to his surprise, a new item had been added to his plate: mashed potatoes. It wasn't much but it made him feel excited, and he polished it off first. He was happy for the new addition – he was sick and tired of the old menu.

Cecil came down when dinner was almost over. He looked exhausted and pale. "Madam Pomfrey wasn't very happy with me flying." He reported, flopping down next to Harry when he was called over. "I got a right scolding for it…"

Alarmed, Harry sat up. "I'm sorry, I didn't think - "

"-told her I was fine." Cecil interrupted, stubbornly. "I told her that I liked the experience and that you were around to help me." He helped himself to his own mashed potatoes. "Her mood seemed to change after I said that, and she didn't say anything more."

Just as he finished speaking, Madam Pomfrey came through the doors and hurried to sit at the head table, and Harry watched her go, wondering who had tipped her off about their flying spree earlier.

As he brought his gaze from her, it locked accidentally with Snape's who was staring at him, almost angrily. It made Harry's blood freeze and the man quickly hid his face behind the curtain of his greasy hair, to break eye contact.

"Harry?" Cecil was asking. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Harry answered automatically. At Cecil's raised eyebrow, he knew that the boy knew he was lying.

But Harry grew increasingly worried as the night closed in. A strange prickling feeling was running through him and he felt like a herd of butterflies had decided to jump around in his stomach.

Snape seemed to glare more often in Harry's direction than normal. After the fourth time seeing his smoldering gaze, he couldn't help but fear the thought that the Potions' Master had something nasty up his sleeve. The contemplating looks behind those angry eyes plagued Harry's mind. Surely he wouldn't say a word about his sickness to the students!

Or would he?

Added to the list of his problems, he was worried about his meeting with Dumbledore. He still could not get over the fact that he was going to be given a private audience with him.

Finally, before bed, he decided to ask Cecil if he received a letter of invitation too. The Headmaster would not dream to hold a party and exclude someone who was left in the castle to celebrate Christmas on their own.

Cecil, once again curled up in Neville's bed, sleepily responded, "Don' know whatcher talkin' abou' Ha-rry…" He was cut off in the middle of his last word as a yawn overtook him.

"So you didn't get a letter?" Harry asked, hopefully, but to his dismay, his friend had fallen asleep. The earlier flying experience must have worn him out.

Harry was tired too, but his mind was wide awake: what other gift could he possibly get that was so important? He wracked his brain for anything he might have left behind in Durmstrang, but he couldn't think of anything. Finally, he dropped off into a fitful sleep, dreaming of dark, dangerous objects that were in boxes presented to him by the Headmaster.

When morning arrived, he felt like he hadn't slept a wink. He was so giddy that when he tried to take his pills, they spilled out all over the floor. Luckily, Cecil was not yet awake to hear it, and Harry had to scramble around on his hands and knees trying to collect every last one of them.

Everyone seemed to be in high spirits that day, including the Professors, some of whom Harry could hear singing carols in the hallway, freely. Cecil was no exception as he even struck up the tune with them, under his breath.

"It's hard not to feel happy," He said, matter-of-factly. "Even Abcde is in the mood: she was singing carols yesterday too, did you hear?"

Absently, Harry nodded. His fairy had been turning green, gold, and red trying to cheer him up, but nothing it seemed, could quell his nervousness for that coming night. Maybe he was making too big of a deal out of it, but he couldn't help it.

He feared for the worst.

They passed the day by helping Hagrid to unbury his house which was completely covered in the freshly fallen snow. Afterwards, they sat down to tea with him, while Hagrid settled heavy blankets about their shoulders to help keep them warm.

"I really appreciate yer help," he told them, as he took a seat across from them, the floorboards shaking as he did so. "Ruddy cold out there, innit?"

Harry nodded, unable to speak because his lips were still blue and he was trying to work some warmth back into his fingers by placing them around his steaming cup.

"Saw yeh both flying th'other day." Hagrid said, after taking a long swig from his cup, great drops of tea spilling down his bushy, black beard. He paid no mind to it, merely continuing to speak. "Too bad the weather turned out like this."

Unfortunately for the two of them, they had been forbidden by the nurse to take their brooms out for a fly again, as snow was still falling in great amounts and she was afraid that they would get caught in a storm.

When they were warmed up, Hagrid hurried them to go. "Might snow hard again tonigh'." He said briskly, taking their empty tea cups from them. "Go on and have fun at dinner."

Harry eyed the darkening sky, feeling the pit of his stomach tighten. "What about you, Hagrid? Won't you be joining us for the Christmas feast?"

The man shook his head, "I got things ter do, see. Professor Dumbledore'll send something fer me as looks like, so don' you worry."

"What do you have to do?" Harry wondered what could possibly be so important that he could miss a feast so looked forward to by the whole school.

Hagrid stubbornly shook his head again. "Never you mind that. On with yeh now, before the weather acts up." And with that, he ushered them to the doorstep, where they turned to face him again.

"Well, have a Happy Christmas, then, Hagrid." Harry told him.

"You too, Harry. Make sure yeh take great care."

And he closed the door behind them.

What exactly had he meant by that?

**0-0-0-0-0 **

The Christmas Feast was loud and raucous, like any other banquet that was celebrated in Hogwarts castle. The golden plates were piled high with every assortment of meat, vegetables and grains one could possibly think of. Pies by the dozen lined the tables and pastries and cakes were practically rolling off each other.

There was so much food that one could not help but think of who would eat it all: with most of the school missing, a lot of the food would not be eaten. Still, that thought did not stop anyone from cramming their plates to overflowing nor did it stop anyone from stuffing themselves full.

Madam Pomfrey had graciously allowed Harry to partake in anything he wanted, so long as he did not overdo specific foods. Thus, he tucked into a wonderful dinner – the best he had ever tasted. Throughout the meal, he ignored Snape's burning gaze and had a very nice debate with Cecil over the usefulness of Mandrakes on someone who had been put under a memory charm. He did not want to voice his worries to him – he would probably scoff and say that Harry was overreacting.

He noticed, however, that the Headmaster was not present at his usual seat.

Before long, 7:00pm had crept up, and Harry, excusing himself rather hurriedly, made a mad dash for the stairs leading up to Professor Dumbledore's office. He had tried to prolong the meeting as much as possible, but there was no helping it – the Headmaster was waiting.

The sounds of the feast died away as he drew further and further away from the Dining hall. The laughter and chatting disappeared and the sounds of utensils against the plates became inaudible. Soon, the empty hallways and the silence of the looming castle were all that filled Harry's ears.

Legs feeling like lead, Harry dragged them up the stairs and toward the huge gargoyle that stood right outside of the Headmaster's doors, like a guard ready to pounce.

As Harry looked up into its gruesome, gray, stone face, he faltered: he did not know the password. The gargoyle's nasty grin seemed to be mocking him, and Harry knew that it would not just spring aside.

Opening his mouth to try the first thing that came to his mind, he was most surprised to hear a voice behind him say, "Dancing Jellybeans".

Whipping his head around at the familiar voice, Harry was struck dumb to see none other than Severus Snape, standing behind him. "Wha-?" But he was not able to finish his question, as the gargoyle in front of the doorway suddenly sprang to life, moving to the side.

Jumping nervously, Harry peered behind it to see a revolving set of stairs leading up. Casting a look at Snape once more, he hurried onto it, and was even more surprised to see Snape step onto it right after him. The gargoyle looked around twice to see if there were any more people entering, before resuming his post outside once more.

Stumbling out into the Headmaster's room, Harry saw him sitting down behind his oak desk, hands knitted together and his eyes trained on him over his half-moon spectacles.

"Welcome, Harry, Severus." He nodded to the both of them in turn as they entered the room, and motioned for them to sit on one of the plush chairs he had sitting before him. "You both came right on time." Fawkes, the phoenix, let out a shrill cry, rocking back and forth on his perch, almost excitedly.

Feeling even more awkward and noticing the twist of dread in his stomach building, Harry took his seat, mind bursting with questions. Had Snape known that Harry had been invited too?

"As you know," Dumbledore continued, in his quiet voice, "I have invited you here to give you a gift. And it's a very important one at that."

Severus' did not look the least bit interested, as he leaned forward. "And why, if I may ask, Headmaster, do you deem it important for the _both_ of us to be present while you do so?"

The very thought of Harry. He was glad he did not have to voice it aloud. He felt as though his heart had leapt to his throat and if he opened his mouth he would choke.

Dumbledore seemed to be expecting that question because he smiled, amiably. "Because, it involves both of you….and you must share it."

"Share it?" Severus echoed, blankly. Clearly he was not thrilled.

Harry wasn't either. He could not picture himself sharing a test tube with the Potions' Master if his life depended on it, nor anything else for that matter. He felt the pit of dread tighten so much he had to remind himself to breathe.

"Yes, Severus – share it." Dumbledore responded, patiently. He leaned back in his chair as well, arranging his purple robes as he did so. "The gift for the both of you…." His eyes were trained on Harry, as if searching his soul, "is the truth."

The truth?

Gasping, Harry felt as if he could not longer ignore the dread. Feeling like his consciousness was being pulled away from him, he held on, clutching his fist to his stomach.

It was like being pulled into a void, being knocked out, and coming back to your senses. In a cloudy haze, he heard himself say, "What do you think you're doing?"

Dumbledore's gaze did not flinch at the sudden change in voice. "Maje, please calm down."

But Maje had gotten to his feet, staring angrily down at the Headmaster. "No one must find out! Headmaster…!"

"I understand that, sir." Dumbledore said, so softly that Severus had to strain to hear the words. "Please, take your seat. And I wish to speak with Harry. We can't hide the truth from him forever – he's lapsed into spells already while he was here, and there is more pressing news that I must give him.

"Professor-"

"-Maje, please." Professor Dumbledore's voice had risen in volume just the slightest, but his tone of voice was sharp like that of a sword's. "Harry _must_ hear this."

The cloudy haze from which Harry was watching through, lifted slowly, reluctantly, as he was pulled back to his senses. Maje had not fully pushed him away, so he had seen it all, and now, panic ran through every nerve. It was like plunging into icy water as Harry wrenched himself from his dreamlike state, finding himself on his feet and taking in deep gulps of air.

Snape watched the exchange mutely, a clear sign of dislike written on his face.

"Professor, is there no cure?" Harry blurted. "Is that the truth!" He was shaking from head to foot now, as he waited for the answer.

It was long in coming. "Yes and no, my boy." Dumbledore sighed, almost sadly. "It is mingled in the truth I have to say." He once again leaned on his desk, with his elbows supporting him.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "You are not Harry James Potter." Before either could say anything to that, Dumbledore continued hastily. "Your name is Selius Snape."

At that, Harry's legs gave way and he sat back down in his seat.

Professor Dumbledore did not miss a beat. "You're the son of Severus Snape."

If Snape had been standing he'd have fallen over too.

**To Be Continued….**

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AN: to my wonderful reviewers:

**Mimiheart** – Thank you so much for putting up with me thus far and reviewing all the time. I look forward to hearing from you every time. I hope you liked it!

**Junyortrakr** – niichan, doumo arigatou gozaimashita! Chiki wa totemo ureshii desu. Kondo koso yoroshiku onegai shimasu wa.

**Deannit** – I'm so happy that I was able to show a Harry Potter fanfic with a different twist. I hope you liked this chapter and I thank you for your review.

**Shiruba Fokkusu** – I hope that this time around, the chapter was in higher standards for you. I'm so thankful that you were so kind as to leave me a review. (Huggles)

**Optimistic girl94** – Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and for sticking around with me thus far. I'm so glad that you like this story enough to review it for me all the time. Please let me know what you think this time around!

I really am thankful to all my reviewers. Without you, I would never have gotten this far. I hope you all stick around for the next chapter, and until then, thanks for reading! Please leave me a review before you exit the window. Thanks so much!


	10. Denial

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good….all right fine! I don't own Harry Potter, but all original characters/ideas are mine to claim!

AN: What fun! I'm glad to see that people were wierded out by that last chapter – I hope this chapter will do the same thing! Thanks for waiting everybody and please enjoy!

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**Chapter 10**

**- Denial -**

There was a moment of stunned silence, where all one could hear was the crackling of the fire that burned merrily in the grate.

And then, they both spoke at once.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"What do you _mean_!"

Dumbledore seemed to be expecting their cries of outrage because he calmly replied, "It is a very long story, and this is why I have asked you both to come here so early. Please," he held up a hand to stop Harry from protesting, "let me finish before you ask any questions."

He turned his gaze to Snape, who had turned very pale, leaving his face a ruddy color. "Severus…you had a child, remember?"

Hoping against hope that Snape would deny it, Harry felt his world spin out of control as Snape slowly nodded. "Yes….but…he can't have survived…."

"He's sitting in the chair to your right." Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Very much alive." He added. Harry's insides had disappeared again, but not because of any medicine. He wondered if this were another very bad dream and wanted to wake up _now_.

"Harry Potter is not my son!" Snape cried, seething. His voice was pure venom and it caused Harry to shrink back. "He's the son of those filthy, no good, _mental_ Potters! He looks exactly like James or haven't you noticed!" His finger jabbed in Harry's direction, but he did not turn to look at the boy, for fear of seeing that Harry's looks had changed suddenly and that he had been mistaken.

A ray of hope shone for Harry – so what if Snape had a child? It didn't mean it was him…

"Yes, he does look remarkably like James, doesn't he?" Dumbledore's voice sounded fond and had a dream-like quality to it. "And you can't very well say that Lily Evans was mental, now can you?"

Severus reddened slightly at his words, but he shook his head adamantly. "You must be mistaken, Headmaster. Selius must have died during the war..."

"No, he didn't." The Headmaster interjected. "I thought so, too, trust me, but the story doesn't end there." His gaze slid to Harry who was whiter than the color of chalk and who appeared to be in a state of shock.

"I had nicknamed you 'Doorstep Harry'," The headmaster said, sadly, "with all the moving around you'd undergone. You must forgive me that: there was too much going on."

When at last the two seemed silent enough, Dumbledore launched into his story. "Harry, you were left on the doorstep of Lily and James Potter when you were just a year old. They were married and in hiding from Voldemort, you see, and they were most surprised to find you out there, alone and with no protection.

"So they took you in, as their own, loving you and caring for you. With James' magic, they stamped upon you a bit of themselves, so that you might look like them." The headmaster said, thoughtfully, "James has always surprised me with his abilities. But he did not realize the danger of his magic either – in so doing, they split your mind, as parts of them contested to be a part of you. Thus, Liliana and Maje are parts of Lily and James living inside you."

"What about Bryce then?" Harry demanded. "And Paris? What about them!"

The Headmaster held up his hands, to subdue any questions. "I haven't finished." He said, slowly. "When Lily and James were killed by Voldemort, you survived with nothing but that scar on your head, while one of the darkest, most powerful wizards was defeated.

"But that scar is more than just a scar." Here he paused, stroking the feathers of Fawkes who had decided to interrupt his story with another screech. "That scar is a curse, upon which Voldemort transferred some of his powers into you, and without knowing, also placed a bit of himself in your mind, where I believe, Bryce was born." He stopped stroking the phoenix, and looked toward the boy, who had clutched his armrests so tightly, his knuckles were white. When Harry did not speak again, Dumbledore continued with his tale.

"After your parents' death, I had you brought to the Dursley's, who, at the time, I thought were your only living relatives. I found I was mistaken as the spell I had placed upon you was not working.

"The spell, _Protego Paternum_, was to bind you with the ties of your family so that you would be, in a sense, invisible to the eye of Voldemort. As you well know, Voldemort was rising in power again, and his first objective was to eliminate you because you were the one who brought upon his downfall in the first place.

"He was very weak," Dumbledore added, "but nevertheless, I wasn't about to leave you unprotected. In near panic, I searched everywhere for the ties of the person to whom you were related. After 11 years, my surprise was that he resided, at the time in Bulgaria, teaching Potions in Durmstrang, undercover."

Harry's eyes flicked to the Potions Master, who did not dare to meet his gaze. The tall, foreboding man did not look the least bit at ease, but instead, seemed to have been placed under a petrifying curse.

"So I sent you to Durmstrang, so that you would be protected, and once more, you were deposited on the doorstep of a family who agreed to take you in for the summer holidays before your classes began."

Harry remembered them very well. They had been very nice and welcoming, teaching him the language and making sure that he was well fed – very different from the Dursley's who had tried their best to pretend that Harry had ever existed.

"When Severus came back to teach at Hogwarts," The Headmaster had continued his story, "I feared that the spell I had placed upon you both would be broken. And it did wane, because Bryce seemed to be in control a lot, wasn't he?"

Harry tried to shut out the memories.

The screams.

The blood.

He nodded, his tongue feeling thick and glued to the top of his mouth.

"Well, after the incident, I had arranged for you to be brought to Hogwarts as well, and here I met Maje for the first time, who begged me to find a way – any way – to rid you of Bryce. It is in our minds that Voldemort may not be so blind to you as we thought, as Bryce is also a part of him, and thus hasn't been completely destroyed. And here," He sighed heavily, "here is where the bad news comes in….

"Unfortunately, there is no cure for Bryce. Maje warned me that the magic that James had performed would not last forever. He made me the Secret-Keeper to all this information, and I told him I would not tell you unless it was really necessary." At last, he stopped, taking in a deep breath, which sounded, to Harry, more of a sigh.

For a long while, no one moved except for Fawkes who began preening his feathers and blinking at each of them in turn as they let the truth sink in. Harry was finding his lap more interesting by the minute – this all had to be one twisted, made up joke. And then, he felt it…the raw edges of anger started to build up.

"May I ask a question, sir?" Harry asked, tightly, trying to ignore his sudden emotion.

"You've already asked me it." Dumbledore said, lightly, "But you're free to ask me another if you want."

"Why did you tell me all this now? What made it really necessary?"

"That was two questions not including the first." The man answered, still in his lighted voice. "But I shall answer them both nevertheless. I told you this now because I felt that I could not keep something this important from you, not when Bryce is fighting harder than ever to get out. I fear he'll hurt you in your subconscious mind, where there is no one there to help.

"As for what made it necessary – tonight, you become of age, Harry. I did not want you to become of age without knowing the truth." At the boy's questioning squeak, Dumbledore pressed on. "That's right – the birth date that was given to you by the Dursley's is not your real birth date but rather the date on which they received you on their doorstep. It says in your _records_ that you were born on - "

"- December 24, at 7:00pm…." Snape interrupted quietly. He was not looking up, but was examining the material to his black cloak closely.

"Exactly." Dumbledore murmured, his lips turning up into a small smile. He suddenly looked so old and frail, as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders.

Harry stood up and began to pace. He felt as if he'd explode if he didn't move. "Why did Maje tell you to keep it from me?" He asked, running a hand through his hair. He kept shaking his head, as if to clear away the whole story – to make it so that it never existed.

Unfortunately for him, Dumbledore had an answer at the ready. "Because, James' magic allowed it so that if the holder of the spell – that is you – ever found out, the personalities would be released, and you would slowly start to look like the one to whom you held family ties. In short, their spell would end, and your features would be like that of your real father's."

Snape suddenly looked up. "What do you mean 'the personalities would be released'?"

Dumbledore slowly tapped his forehead with his index finger, his voice going grave. "It means, that Harry's four little friends will cease to be imagination."

**0-0-0-0-0**

It was past 10:00 already. The moving pictures surrounding the office were all listening keenly to the heated conversation down below as the three figures worked out quite a complicated affair.

Who would have known?

The Boy-Who-Lived was really the son of the Potions Master!

"There's got to be some mistake!" Harry protested, running his hands through his hair again. He had collapsed back into his chair. "How do you know that I am the baby that Professor Snape had? You must have the wrong person!"

"The Paternum spell only works with those who hold family ties with you." Dumbledore explained, patiently. "As long as you are within the walls of where your family ties are, you will be safe. When Severus left Durmstrang, the spell was lifted, and I knew for certain that he was your bond – that he is your father."

"There must be proof beyond that!" Harry cried, desperately, cringing at the thought of Snape actually being his father. "How do you know that my parents performed this spell?"

Again, Dumbledore was ready for the question. He automatically pulled out some books and a stack of papers. "James and Lily Potter researched this magic carefully. If done wrong, it would cause the holder of the spell – that is you – to be seriously injured, or worse, permanently impaired." He passed the books to the two, both of whom took them instantly, opening their worn pages. "I retrieved these when I was looking for more evidence as to why the Dursley's weren't fulfilling the Paternum spell."

On the top each book were the words, "_Ipseum Insero_" scribbled neatly. Mathematical equations, formulas, incantations and wand work were thoroughly researched in each, labels and diagrams lined some pages easily. Harry saw his name pop up more than a few times, and he could feel his heart hammering against his chest.

"You were the Secret Keeper," Snape said, addressing Dumbledore, flipping through the book with the potions' ingredients in them. "You _knew_ that you would end the spell by telling Har … the boy." He corrected himself, awkwardly. "You would allow Bryce to rampage around?"

"Won't they disappear?" Harry asked, upon hearing that snippet. "They're supposed to, once the spell is broken!"

"Maje and Lily may." Dumbledore responded. "But again, Voldemort still lives, so Bryce won't just disappear. If anything, he'll find a way to get back to his real keeper and that's where you are in grave danger, Harry…Voldemort is still very angry with you."

Mouth dry, Harry could not help but be very angry at the Headmaster. He could have done without knowing the secret – mental torture he could stand, but watching Bryce murder someone again, he couldn't. He flipped through the last of the books, trying to find a shred of evidence against everything that Dumbledore had told them, but he could find nothing.

Finally, he slammed it shut, feeling faint. "And…my birth date…how did you know my birth date?"

Another piece of paper came out, this one on an official parchment that bore the words, "**Selius Severus Snape, birth record**".

Snape got up then, depositing the book onto Dumbledore's desk. His actions were not brisk as they usually were. They were stiff and uncertain, like that of a drunk man's. His hands were actually shaking as he imitated Harry's show of frustration by running his hands through his oily, dark hair.

He asked the question that was hanging over them like a shadow, that no one seemed to want to dare uttering. "How long will it take for the changes to take place fully?"

"It all depends on how fast Harry's body reacts to the waning spell that James performed on him long ago." Was the response. "Two months, maybe three…but at most four. In either way, Harry, you must continue to take your pills and try your best to control your emotions. When the personalities leave your mind, you must be at the ready. Expect the unexpected at all times."

That was not enough time! Harry could practically hear Bryce gloating about it and he grit his teeth.

"Severus, you have to continue to find a way to try and slow this process down. I'm counting on you to subdue Bryce at all costs. And," he added, "to be the father you missed out on being."

At that, Harry sprang from his chair, a snarl on his lips. The chair fell backward, with a soft thump, its legs sticking up in the air. "The father you never were!" He cried. "Don't even _think_ of calling me Selius! I won't stand for it!" The raw edges of anger were back, and burning ever so quickly.

What would his friends think of all this? He'd be the laughing stock of the whole school again.

"Trust me, Potter," Snape snarled back, "I'm not thrilled any more than you are." He drew his cloak about him, menacingly, but Harry did not back down. The portraits surrounding them had started up a conversation on the outcome and the room was in an uproar.

When Albus Dumbledore got to his feet, he meant business. So when his voice rang out over their argument, the whispers died down and the two turned to face him stiffly. "That is enough. Harry, no matter what you do, these changes will happen and I'm afraid you'll have to adapt to them."

Snape began to storm to the doorway, when he was called on again. "Severus!" Stopping dead in his tracks but not bothering to turn around, Snape froze. "All this should be kept a secret until the changes start to happen. I don't want Harry singled out just when he has started to fit in." No answer came, and instead, the Potions Master swept from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry did not know what to do. This had to be the worst day of his life. When he met Professor Dumbledore's eyes, he set the book he was holding, down gently on the desk. Despite his anger, he felt overwhelming sadness envelope him. "Thank you, sir…" He managed to whisper after a very long time, fingers trailing the hard cover book. "…it's just that…."

"The truth hurts." Dumbledore said, wisely, nodding. "I know, Harry. But Professor or not, he is your father and he is the only family you've got. I wish there was another way."

_Me too_, thought Harry, but he did not word it aloud. He had always wanted a family, and he was disappointed that his only living relative had to be the one person he must have hated the most in all of his life.

"Happy Birthday, Harry."

By the time he entered his dormitory, mind full to the brim with all the information he had been given, he was glad for the solitude and the darkness. He curled himself into a ball and for the first time in a long time, he cried himself to sleep.

**0-0-0-0-0**

A sobbing sound filled the dark room, along with the sound of agitated footsteps. The atmosphere was extremely cold, like someone had decided to turn off the fires and sleep in their small clothes.

Well, that was how Harry felt anyway.

"Liliana, keep it down: don't wake him."

But the sobbing sound continued, and grew in intensity.

Not being able to hold onto his sleep much longer, Harry opened his eyes. He was lying down in a room he'd never seen before, wrapped in a dingy, gray blanket. The fire in the grate was out, and it looked as though it hadn't been used for ages. There was a small window in the corner of the room, letting in a pale stream of light.

His back felt stiff as a board when he sat up, and he realized it was because he was sleeping on the floor.

The scene that greeted him was one he'd experienced a few times before, except this time, Liliana did not greet him heartily. Instead, the girl was sitting on the floor, dabbing at her eyes with her robes and trying her best to keep in her sobs.

Maje continued to pace around the room, with his hands clenched behind his back. Paris sat motionless on the floor, watching them with big round eyes, his thumb in his mouth. He looked alert and confused.

"Harry's awake!" Paris cried, when he caught sight of Harry sitting up.

Both heads turned to look, and Liliana hiccoughed as she blinked through red, swollen eyes.

Peeling back the covering, Harry shivered slightly. "What's going on?" he asked, groggily, fingers trembling because of the cold.

"He told you!" Liliana wailed. "He told you our secret! Oh, Maje, I warned you not to tell the Headmaster! Now look at what he's gone and done!"

Maje's pacing stopped and he fixed his green eyes on Harry while his hand shot out to Liliana's shoulder in comfort. "There was no choice. When Bryce began to come out, I knew there was something wrong. I needed a solution, Liliana! I couldn't let him hurt us any longer!"

Maje's words echoed in the room, and Liliana looked down at her hands. "I'm happy he told him…." Maje said, finally. "Harry is of age now – he has the right to know. And…he's got to learn how to defend himself."

Harry felt goose bumps race down his skin, and he unconsciously hugged the blanket up to his chin while he listened. Paris had sidled over to his side, by this time, leaning against his wiry frame. He said nothing, watching the two argue some more, his hand never leaving his mouth content to be sucking away at his thumb happily.

"Aren't I of age when I turn 18?" Asked Harry, who could no longer stand to be so silent.

Maje shook his head. "In the wizarding world, you turn of age at 17. Oh, Liliana _stop crying_, it's not the end of the world!"

Liliana's sobs quieted just a little. "He's going to come out, now…we all are…and it's going to be harder to control us….." She looked toward Harry imploringly. "We'll do our best to delay but….." She trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence. "We'll hold Bryce back as much as we can." She said instead.

"Will Bryce hurt us?" Paris asked, suddenly, his voice very small. His chubby face had turned pale and worried.

"He won't hurt us." Maje said, quickly, picking up his pacing once again. "But when we do start to dematerialize from Harry's mind, I'm afraid that we're going to have very little time to help protect Harry from him. And what's more, I suspect that your changes won't come gradually, Harry," He was now looking pointedly at him, "so we're really counting on the Potion that Snape was told to brew for you, to slow down the process."

At the mention of Snape, Harry's insides twisted again in grief and disbelief. He did not want to be the son of that horrible man! Why did the fates always play against him in this way?

"He won't do it." Harry said, bitterly. "He hates me so much, he won't care that I'll change. In fact, he'll probably speed it up, to humiliate me some more." He pushed his glasses, which had gone askew on his face, up the bridge of his nose and straightened them. "And he'll tell everybody…."

Liliana's sobs had finally ceased at Harry's words. "No he won't." She assured him.

The raw edges of anger were back, and Harry got to his feet. He was clad only in boxers and a shirt – no wonder he was freezing. His breath rose in a cloudy mist before him as he shouted back, "Yes he will! Maybe you forgot, Liliana, but he practically _advertised_ my situation in front of the whole school in Durmstrang!" His hands clenched into fists. "Who's to tell that he won't do it again? He lives to embarrass me!"

A low chuckle echoed around the room, and behind a closed door, a voice sounded. "He betrayed you…."

Everyone tensed and Paris cried out, clutching onto Harry's leg with his small arms. Harry felt his chest constrict in fear.

The laughter sounded again, and this time the voice of Bryce taunted, "I told you, Maje, the problem that you have is that you trust people too easily. I knew the moment you told that sorry excuse for a Potions Master in Durmstrang that he would tell everyone."

Paris let out a frightened moan at Bryce's words, and he clutched Harry's leg all the tighter. Harry, however, stared at the locked door with hatred. "I'll fight you, Bryce, if it's the last thing I do."

At that, Bryce barked a laugh. "No, Harry. The last thing you'll do is beg mercy before the feet of the Dark Lord, while I stand and watch. The game is up, Maje. You can try to keep me locked away but it won't last forever."

Liliana cocked her head to the side, as Maje clenched his fists. "He's a raving lunatic." She said, softly. "He can't succeed – he mustn't." She pushed herself to her feet as well, her long black hair falling around her face as she did so, hiding one eye from sight. "This is beyond all the secrets and lies you've ever kept or told," She said to Harry. "But you've got to be strong. I'm sure Hermione and Ron will understand."

"I won't be able to bear it!" Harry told her, feeling himself tremble again, but this time it wasn't because of the cold. It was in his fear. As if Paris could tell, the boy shivered too, tears rolling down his pudgy face. "I can't stand the fact that of all people Snape has to be - "

"-you must be courageous." Liliana told him, her hand ice cold against his face as she cupped his chin in her palms. She moved forward so that she kissed his forehead. "Go now, you must wake up…we'll keep Bryce at bay." Her voice was still strained with her tears, and he knew that she was trying to be strong for him. "Happy Birthday, Harry, and a Merry Christmas too….remember…"

And her voice faded into the echoes of his mind, mingled in with the peals of dark laughter ringing from behind the closed door.

In a cold sweat, Harry forced his eyes open, the feeling of a heavy blanket and a soft pillow behind his bed a very welcome feeling. The goose bumps on his arms disappeared slowly, and bit by bit, he began to warm up, shivering slightly despite the heat in the room.

Abcde lay sleeping in her lantern, peacefully, unmoving.

_Remember…._

But Harry did not want to remember. Liliana's words echoed in his mind, and he felt a cold dread at the thought. This _was_ beyond any secret or lie he had ever held and it was almost too overwhelming.

Just as he grabbed his glasses, the sound of a screech made him look up. There, fluttering by his closed window, was Hedwig. She seemed unusually giddy as she hooted to get in.

Stumbling out of bed as the blankets twisted themselves around his ankles, Harry moved to the window and unlocked it, letting her fly in.

The cold air immediately swept in, causing Harry to gasp as Hedwig made a grand entrance, settling herself gently on the carpet in the middle of the room. Pushing the pane of glass back into place, Harry hurried to where she stood, proudly pushing her leg forward for him to receive the rolled piece of parchment.

"Thank you…you did well, Hedwig." Harry murmured, stroking her just under her neck where she loved it the most. He gently untied the note and after giving his owl her treat, she nipped his finger fondly before leaving the room for her much needed rest.

Sure enough, the letter came from Filip, who, it seemed, was ecstatic to hear from Harry again.

_"Good to hear you've got friends. Trust me when I say that I'm sorry for the way I acted back then. I didn't know what to think after I saw you suddenly switch personalities like that. I thought you were mad. I don't know if you'll believe me, but you've got to._

_And you must believe what I'm going to write next. Speaking of Professor Snape…the other day, there was a man who came around Durmstrang and I heard him speaking with Professor Karkaroff. I couldn't hear them very clearly but I heard that the man was looking for Professor Snape._

_Karkaroff said that Snape was guilty (I don't know about what) and said that Snape ran away. The man was really angry, demanding where Snape had gone, but Karkaroff said he didn't know. That made the man angrier, and he put the Professor in the hospital ward. Rumors have it that Snape stole something from the man, but I don't know what to believe._

_I don't even know who the man was. Couldn't see his face. But he looked right at me, and I was worried that he knew what you had written to me. Be careful, Harry – if Snape is anywhere around you, you're bound to get mixed into all this trouble too. _

_I sent this as early as I possibly could! If this reaches you before Christmas, I hope you'll have a great one! Keep me posted,_

_-Filip"_

_Yeah right_, thought Harry, bitterly, reading the last line of the letter again. He had not had a very Merry Christmas at all. In fact, he had completely forgotten it was Christmas. With so much going on, he was certain that he would not be surprised if someone jumped him with more ridiculous news he'd never heard of.

His heart hammered against his chest again as he leaned back against the hard wood at the base board of his bed. Just great…how could he keep from being mixed up with Snape after the news he had received just the night before?

Setting down the letter, he let his eyes roam the room, letting Filip's words sink in.

Snape was on the run…did that mean he was a sort of criminal? Maybe he had committed a crime that was grave enough to put him in Azkaban. Well, technically speaking, Harry had missed the Wizard Prison by just a hair and whatever Dumbledore had done to keep Harry out of it, he had yet to find out.

The old man held so many secrets to himself that Harry could not help but be angry. He could not help but wonder just how much the Headmaster had lied to him…how much the Headmaster was _still_ lying to him.

He let his head loll to the side, and his eyes fell on a little mountain of gifts that were piled right next to him.

For a while he stared at it, not willing to believe his eyes. He had never received anything for Christmas before, and he could not quite trust that someone – no, some people – had bothered to send him any.

Slowly, he moved to take the top most box that was nicely wrapped in a golden paper. On the top of the paper his name was written along with a message from Ron.

It was a Wizard's Chess set. And from Hermione, he received a funny little brain teaser box that would shift its shape every time he answered a question wrong and he had to figure out a way to change it back before resuming with the game.

Ron's mother had even sent him a wonderfully made jumper that would no doubt be warm under his cloak.

Finally, the last gift came from Dumbledore. Hesitating a moment, Harry had half the mind not to open it. It was a very small box, that fit neatly into the palm of his hand. In the neat writing he remembered seeing in the Headmaster's invitation to him, was a letter.

"_This was James' long ago. He was quite popular at the sport. Despite your sickness, don't let it stop you from doing the things you want to try the most. Merry Christmas."_

Opening the small box he saw a shining golden ball. He knew what it was: a golden snitch. Not taking it out knowing that it would fly away, he left it there, staring at it.

His father used to be very popular…no, James was not his father – Snape was. Hands clutching the box before him, he angrily threw it, feeling betrayed.

Betrayed by James.

Betrayed by Dumbledore.

Betrayed by….

Betrayed by….

No! He refused to think it!

Going to the washroom, he intended to wash up and change before going down to breakfast, where, no doubt, the rest of the school was waiting. They of course had no clue as to what had happened the night before, so they were probably laughing and carrying on with each other. He had to make himself presentable.

Splashing cold water on his face, making the fog of sleep that was still wrapped around his brain lift, Harry heaved a sigh, letting his hands linger on his face before checking himself in the mirror.

His heart felt like it fell down to his stomach at what he saw.

What were once green-gray eyes were now bright blue, staring back at him through the mirror.

The changes had begun.

**To Be Continued…..**

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AN: And I hope that I managed to cover every loop hole and explain myself properly. If there are any questions, I hope I can answer them in the next chapter! My thanks to **Jaejae, thee-unknown-factor-Incognito, Mimiheart** (wow, for real? I hope I got the facts straight), **Junyortrakr, optimistic girl94, **and **Sensibly Tainted** for reading and keeping up with me thus far! Your reviews are greatly appreciated! (Yay! I'm almost at 100!)

Please review for me and the next chapter should be out soon. Thanks for reading!


	11. Showdown

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa

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Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good...okay fine! I don't own Harry Potter. All original ideas/characters are mine to claim though.

AN: Wow, the amount of support I got was amazing. Thanks everyone for liking it. It's not quite a new idea that Snape would father Harry, but I hope that the story was made plausible. Ah, darn it, I'm rambling again. Please enjoy!

**_Warnings: A bit of violence ahead...Rated Pg13. Tempers! _**

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**Chapter 11  
- Showdown -**

Snape did not immediately get out of bed. When he woke up, he found himself staring at the ugly color of the ceiling for a long time, wondering if the night before had been a mere dream. The back of his eyes hurt; proof that he had not slept well at all. Letting out a groan, he rolled over so that he was face-down on his pillows.

_"You are the son of Severus Snape."_

Merlin, what a nightmare! His son was dead – he had told himself….he had forced himself not to hope, not to remember.

A tinkling sound behind him caused him to sit up, alert. It was the signal that wizards used to announce their arrival in the fireplaces, as a way, in a sense, of knocking.

"Who's there?" He asked, his voice cracking with fatigue. He kicked himself mentally for the sign of weakness.

"It's just me, Severus." Came Dumbledore's voice from the fire. "Did I wake you?"

Severus passed a hand over his face, wearily. "No." He said, sliding out of bed and draping himself with a dress robe. "Did you need something?"

"There are some things we need to discuss with you."

Pausing, with his hand halfway toward his wand, Snape repeated, " '_we_' ?"

"Harry is present too….it seems that there are problems…." Dumbledore said, choosing his words carefully. "I'd like to conduct the meeting down in your quarters, if you don't mind…that will be where the boy may spend most of his time if I'm not mistaken."

"What?" Snape squawked, an intense feeling of foreboding falling about him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean to say that you and Harry will be seeing a lot more of each other in the days to come so it will be easier if he knew where he could find you. I trust you haven't forgotten the fact that it is the holiday season?"

Snape bit the inside of his cheek, trying his best not to fling back a retort. "I would prefer to meet Harry in my office." He said, finally, glowering at the flames as if everything Dumbledore had said was their fault.

There as a long pause and then, Dumbledore spoke again, a bit hesitantly. "Ah…well, it would not be in our best interest to have him publicly going to your offices…"

"And him going publicly to my quarters is?" Snape demanded.

"As for that, your quarters are well hidden, and I'm quite sure that you don't have many visitors. Harry can take the quickest passageway to it without being seen."

At that, Snape pursed his lips, his right hand coming up to squeeze at the bridge of his nose in annoyance. If this was Dumbledore's way of getting him acquainted with his new-found son, then he was really pushing his luck. At the same time, he was worried about his earlier statements. There was a problem….

"Very well. I'll be ready to receive you in fifteen minutes, Headmaster."

"Thank you." Came the cheery response, and then, silence.

Grabbing a change of clothes, Severus hastily set off for the washroom to freshen up and banish the look of fatigue on his face. Bags were evident under his eyes, though, adding a surly feature to his already stern face.

Afterwards, he closed the door to his room tightly, putting the room in order by setting the books straight and stacking the pile of parchment papers that needed to be graded, neatly in a pile.

He had just finished pushing the batch of 'Potter Potion' towards the wall on his desk, when he remembered that Dumbledore did not quite have the password to his room, and he'd forgotten to mention it at all. He decided to push his way out of his portrait hole and wait in the corridor.

Unfortunately for him, Sir Cadogan, a self-righteous knight, had taken up the post of being his portrait sentry, because his old portrait sentry had gone off for the holidays. As he stepped outside, Sir Cadogan brandished his sword threateningly, calling out, "You, sir! Stand your ground and fight like a man!"

Snape ignored him, wanting nothing more than to turn around and burn the whole frame along with the man in armor. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Sir Cadogan waving that pointed weapon around with such force that he was in danger of hurting himself.

Leaning against the cold wall, Snape looked down the dungeons. He had chosen the rooms specifically, since it was quiet and no one really wanted to go there. It was dank and dark, as was to be expected for an underground hallway. Spiders were busily making their webs on the ceilings, the torch lights occasionally flickering and bringing them into view before they were shadowed once again.

Somewhere, a rat must have died, because there was a foul smell in the air. He did not have time to dwell on that, as a voice broke the silence. "Ah, Professor Snape! Good morning!"

As always, Dumbledore's voice was light and cheerful as if there wasn't a care in the world. He swept his arm out, and in his hand he held a box. "Acid Pop?" He offered.

"No thanks." Snape said, eyeing the yellow candy in disgust.

Just behind the Headmaster, stood Harry, dressed down casually with a jumper that was dark green in color. He was clutching his wand in his hand so hard that his knuckles were white.

Sir Cadogan's voice rang out again, importantly, as the three of them stepped up to the picture. "I'll have your names, sirs, if you would like to keep your lives!"

"Variance Venues," Snape snarled the password, ignoring the knight's prodding jeer.

As the portrait opened for them, Snape led them inside, feeling uncomfortable seeing the other two glance casually about his living space. He was not used to visitors. "Shall we get on with it then?" he asked, impatiently.

"Yes, yes, of course." Dumbledore said, serenely, moving toward the couches that Severus motioned to. Harry did not move, however, glaring at the pair of them.

"You told me it would take two months!" He cried. "It's only been one night!"

Bewildered, Snape stared at the boy. "What are you talking about?" He asked.

"You've got to slow it down!" Harry was saying, oblivious to the fact that Snape had just spoken. He was addressing Dumbledore.

The old man raised his hands as if to subdue him. "Calm down, Harry. This is why we are here."

But Severus had taken the boy's features into consideration more thoroughly after Harry's outburst. His hair was as unruly as James' had ever been, and he had a long pale face and a set jaw so full of arrogance and determination that Snape would never see how this boy could have ever been his own…

What struck him cold was when he saw the eyes: James had never had eyes like that. Neither had Lily….a sinking feeling began to settle in his stomach.

"I'll take your expression to mean that you've now recognized the first change in Harry's appearance, Severus?" Dumbledore quipped, lacing his fingers together in his lap.

Snape turned stiffly to the Headmaster. "It's too soon!" He heard himself protest. "I haven't even begun to mix a potion together!" he glanced helplessly at Harry who now looked on the verge of panic.

"You've got to do something!" He said. "Who's to say that the next changes won't happen one after the other in the next few days? What if they happen in the next few hours? Then Bryce will - "

"-How soon can you get the potion done?" Dumbledore asked, cutting Harry off mid-sentence. His voice was calm and collected, but Snape knew it to be because he did not want to scare the student any more than he was already.

"A week….if I rush, I may be finished within a few days." Snape told him. "But it'll be difficult…I still have to research and experiment…and…."

"Knowing you, and your abilities, Harry is in safe hands." Dumbledore said. "It is _crucial_ that Harry gets this potion – not just for his own safety but for all of ours. You do understand that, I trust?"

Snape nodded, sullenly.

Dumbledore got to his feet, then, stretching as he did so. "If you'll excuse me, then, gentlemen, I've some business to attend to. I'll leave you two with each other for your tests and whatnot. Merry Christmas to you both."

Ah, yes, Christmas…Snape had forgotten all about it. He did not even have the time to reply to the greeting as Dumbledore promptly left, the portrait closing gently behind him, leaving him and Harry standing in the room together, alone.

If silence could suffocate then the two of them would have been gasping for air at the amount of it.

Snape couldn't tear his gaze away from Harry's now blue eyes.

"Who was she?" Harry demanded, suddenly. It caused Severus to snap back into reality.

"Is that really of concern at the moment, boy?" He asked not wanting to discuss parentage, his lip curling in contempt. In his heart, he was still refusing the fact that this young man standing before him was his son.

"Yes, it is." Harry replied heatedly. "And I have a name. I'll always be a Potter."

"Oh, you're truly amusing." Snape growled, moving toward his desk that was situated in the far corner. "Trust me when I say that I'm not happy with the idea of you being my flesh and blood."

"Well, I'll never consider you my father." Harry told him, stubbornly. "I hate you too much."

"The feeling's mutual." Snape remarked, dryly. So much for bonding. "Regardless of whether you consider me as your true father or not, the truth still stands that I am. And do not forget, Potter, that I am your professor as well. Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek – I don't believe students have lost House Points over the Christmas Break, but congratulations for being the first to have done."

Harry went pink around the ears as he stared at Snape with nothing but loathing. Then, his demeanor changed completely as his face split into a wide grin.

"What are you - ?"

He had to jump out of the way as Harry suddenly bolted past him, in giddy excitement. "Catch me if you can, teacher!"

Paris was back.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Paris dodged around Snape's couch, eyes glittering mischievously. For a boy who was in a seventeen-year-old's body, he moved with surprisingly fluid motions.

"Mr. Potter, stop this immediately." Snape snapped, hand coming out to squeeze at the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It was just what he needed: a four year old child to run after.

Unfortunately for him, Paris grinned and shook his head. "You've got to catch me first!"

"Paris, isn't it?" Snape sighed. "I don't have time for this right now."

"C'mon, teacher!" The child protested, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Play with me!"

Perplexed, Snape stared at the boy incredulously. "No." he said finally, crossing his arms. "I'm not….playing….with you."

"C'mon, teacher!" Paris said again. "Catch me if you can!" He made as if to run away, but Snape firmly shook his head.

"I told you I'm not going to run after you. Now, calm down and sit."

"No!" Paris screamed, dashing off toward the side cupboard.

"Paris!"

"Let's play!" The child quipped, ignoring the professor's cry of exasperation. "You're 'it'!"

Snape could not believe this was happening _again_. He also could not believe that Paris just had to show up at the worst time. "I'll tell you again: sit down on the couch, Paris."

But Paris was not to be subdued. "No!" He said defiantly. "I want you to play!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"No! Don't make me say it again, young man, or else…." He trailed off when Paris suddenly screwed his face up and began to cry. "_Now_, what the Merlin are you rowing about!"

Taking in a huge breath, Paris wailed, "You don't want to play with me! You're so mean, teacher!"

Snape made a move toward the boy, menacingly. If he had to pick him up and force him onto the couch to take those everlasting pills, then he would! In fright, Paris jumped back, and in so doing, bumped against the desk on which all of Snape's careful research on Harry's sickness sat snugly in their cases. The sound of glass shattering on the floor filled their ears and both turned to see the mess that now littered the floor.

Shards of glass of all sizes and blood were splattered on the floor. Pale faced, Paris howled at the sight.

Snape wanted nothing more than to cork him, but he knew that it would not help him at all, but rather make the situation worse. But if there was one thing Snape did not know, it was how to be a parent.

"Paris, stop crying!" He shouted, irritably as he pulled out his wand.

But Paris howled louder at the sight of Snape pointing his wand. "I'm not pointing it at you!" He cried, and he waved his wand once. Instantly, the broken glasses repaired themselves, but the contents did not fill them up again. Instead, he waved his wand once more and the mess disappeared.

Paris was still crying very audibly and Snape pocketed his wand. "Okay, it's gone!" he said, desperately. "Stop it already!" But his protest was drowned out by the boy's wailing.

"PARIS! SHUT UP!" Snape bellowed.

His voice echoed around the room as Paris ceased crying abruptly, ending his bawling in a hiccup and staring at Snape with round eyes.

Knowing that he had only managed to frighten the child even more, Snape was going to say something when Paris' demeanor changed and instead, he found himself staring at angry blue eyes.

"He's just a child, Professor!" The voice had taken the quality of that of a girl's. "If you're going to be a parent to Harry, you'll have to deal with Paris some times too."

Feeling like his morning had spun way out of control, Snape looked back at the person in front of him warily. "And who am I speaking to this time?" He asked, slowly.

"Liliana." She replied angrily, as she absently wiped away the tears that Paris had cried. "I'm afraid you have more than one charge, Professor."

"Ah, you must be Lily's counterpart." Snape muttered, wondering if he had gone insane. He motioned to the couch. "Will you at least have the sense to sit when asked to?"

She did so, in a huff, clearly still not pleased with the way Snape had shouted. "I will not permit children running all around my room…..Liliana." He finished, somewhat awkwardly. "It brings about disorder and indiscipline."

"I understand that, sir." Liliana said, taking off Harry's glasses and wiping them absently on the jumper. "But you will have to learn to control your patience." Her voice was sharp and scolding, and Snape had to try and hide his wince. "Harry is going through a lot right now, and will be going through a lot later in the future. It would be better for the both of you if you try to cooperate with each other. Please, Professor, don't make it any harder on any of us….and I beg you to do your best on that potion as soon as possible."

Snape's upper lip curled angrily. "I was well on my way without that brat of a child ruining my work!" At Liliana's annoyed expression, he tried to take the edge away from his voice. "Nevertheless, you have my word that I will do whatever I can for…for…"

"For all of us." Liliana told him, firmly.

Resigned, Snape nodded. "Now, can I please speak with Harry again? I need to gather more blood samples…"

"Of course, Professor…"

With that, Liliana stood gracefully and there was a pause before Harry blinked and took a few uncertain steps as if he were dizzy. He soon collapsed back onto the couch.

"What happened?" he asked, bringing his hand up to his forehead, with his palm pressing down against the lightning-bolt shaped scar.

"We're going to have a very long talk, Potter." Without further ado, Snape took a seat opposite to Harry, who was watching him as if in a daze. He began to explain in detail what had happened just minutes before. Harry seemed to look as if he were trying to look anywhere but in Snape's direction because of his embarrassment. It felt so strange to hear Snape talking so much to him and in such a calm manner.

"First thing's first: I will need more blood samplings from you, as that idiot child, Paris, deemed them worthy enough to be smashed on the floor."

To his surprise, Harry smirked. "Well, congratulations, sir, but you've not only got one son – you've got a 4-in-1 deal." The last part was said rather bitterly for a crude joke.

Snape studied the boy's features again before saying wryly, "I've noticed." He shook the curtain of greasy hair away from his face. "Secondly, I expect you to report any strange occurrences to me directly. It seems that your changes are happening too soon and too quickly. So that I can monitor my progress in the potion-making, I want you to spend the rest of your Christmas holidays down here in my quarters."

"_What!"_

"Or do you wish to switch frequently in the hallways of the school? I could let you go and embarrass yourself like you did in Durmstrang when school is back in session." He let his voice rise slightly with his words.

Flushing, Harry shook his head at the prospect. "Fine…" he grumbled. Again, there was a pause as the two of them tried their best to piece together the thought that they would be staying in the same living space for a week. It seemed so farfetched and unreal.

"Where will I stay?" Harry asked.

Snape hadn't thought of that. As far as he knew, he only had one bedroom. He hadn't bothered to convert the other rooms of his quarters into another bedroom – he certainly wasn't expecting something like this. "I'll fix something." He gestured vaguely to the doors leading past the kitchen to his right. "You'll have to go and get your things – the ones that are necessary. I won't have you bring any Exploding Snap or whatnot."

Harry bit his tongue to keep from saying something cheeky again. "Yes, sir." He deadpanned.

"And I want you to make sure you take your pills before you come back down here." Snape told him, firmly. "I most certainly won't have a replay of what happened just moments ago."

"Yes, sir."

"And while you're at it, go tell Madam Pomfrey of the new arrangements for the rest of the Christmas Holidays. I want you to inform her that I will be taking over your meal plans and your health issues for this week and that she will be getting updates from me."

For a moment, it seemed as though Harry was going to object to that, but he swallowed his protests and said, "Yes, sir." Again.

"Are you listening, Harry?"

"_Yes_, sir!"

"Good." Snape took a deep breath, feeling more than awkward by this point. He wiped the palms of his hands onto his pants. They trembled as he did so, and he watched as his fingers twitched.

"Is that all, sir?" Harry asked, getting to his feet.

"Yes. I'll expect you back soon. You know the password."

Without another word, Harry swept from the portrait, not looking back.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Harry returned carrying a single bag and a small lantern about an hour later. He looked rather sick with the way the dungeons were so dark. Pale and grim faced, his blue eyes were sharply visible against his pallid cheeks.

After entering through the portrait hole, he stood awkwardly next to the fireplace, not knowing what to do.

Snape's quarters were just as dull as him with the way everything seemed to be…well…black. The tables and chairs in the dining room were made of polished black wood, as were the cabinets surrounding it. A huge silver and green banner adorned the mantel of his fireplace, the only colorful piece of furniture so far as Harry could see.

He jumped involuntarily as Snape suddenly entered the room. In his hands he held 3 test tube bottles, all marked, but what they said, Harry could not see. They were filled with fizzing silvery concoctions.

"Your room is the last one at the end of the hall to the right." He said. He was about to continue on his way when he paused, looking at the lantern. He indicated it with a nod of his head. "Afraid of the dark?"

A bit of color rose to Harry's cheeks at the subtle insult. "It's a Fragile Fairy." He replied, stiffly.

"No pets allowed."

"She's not a pet." Harry snapped.

"Not a very good care taker, are you?" Snape said. "Fragile Fairies need sunlight in order to live. But I would have thought that the _Famous Harry Potter_ knew that!"

Harry blinked. He had forgotten that his living quarters for the week would be in the dungeons and that there couldn't possibly be any windows in this drab place. Could Fragile Fairies die within a week without sunlight? He glance down at Abcde who was fast asleep. No one else would be able to care for her…

"She'll be fine."

As if not wanting to argue, Snape turned away from him. "Well, hurry up boy – put your things away and meet me promptly back here. I'll start my research as soon as possible before you go about embarrassing the both of us with your ridiculous sickness."

Once again, Harry's cheeks gained some color at the insult. Snape was certainly good at giving them and it was all Harry could do not to give any back. As it was, Gryffindor wasn't very happy about how Harry constantly lost them house points whenever Snape was around. Now that he was forced to be in the Potions Master's presence for more time than he would have liked, he would not give Snape the satisfaction of taking off any more house points than he should.

So instead, he pushed past the man, not willing to be anywhere near him as much as possible. For some reason, a hot feeling filled his chest as he passed him – a feeling of such anger and hatred….and such sadness and sorrow – and he fought against the sudden storm of emotions, confusion taking precedence.

He hurried to the end of the hall, but not before Snape noticed his face crumble.

The room brought him little comfort. It was dark and dreary too, with an old rug and a chair in the corner, covered in cobwebs. The bed was the only thing that was not covered in dust as it was probably just brought in. However, the dark green bedcovers were drawn back over yellowing sheets.

Harry took it all in, leaning his back against the door.

After a few moments, he reluctantly opened the door again after settling Abcde down carefully on the dusty chair.

He made his way slowly back, trying to ignore the rumbling of his stomach. With all the excitement of the morning, he had forgotten to eat and now he could not ignore it any longer.

As if to tempt him, a delicious aroma filled his nostrils and he followed the smell to the kitchen door, where, no doubt, Snape was seated to his brunch. He hesitated by the door, peeking in. Maybe it would be better if he waited until the man was finished.

Just as he made to go sit back down on the couch, Snape's voice made him jump for the second time, involuntarily.

"Enter."

So he did.

It was a small kitchen, far from cramped, but smaller than Harry would have imagined.

He was somewhat surprised to see that Snape had taken care to give him a place at the table along with a meal.

"Your breakfast." Snape said, monotonously. "I've changed your diet some, and you will take this potion right afterwards, if you please."

Snape asking for permission was one thing.

Snape asking for permission _politely_ was another. It was shocking.

Searching for words to say, but failing miserably, Harry could do no more than take a seat at his designated place, picking up his utensils to eat. He was rewarded with bacon and a slice of cheese added to his usual menu, the rich flavors a shock to his tongue and he savored the first bite.

The Professor watched him eat, making him feel uneasy, but he soon forgot that as he eagerly ate through his meal, his stomach gurgling happily up at him.

"Slow down, the food isn't going anywhere." Snape drawled, as Harry choked on a particularly big chunk of bread he had been hastily stuffing down his throat. "Have you no table etiquette at all? You remind me of a pig the way you're eating."

The words were out of his mouth before he even thought about what he was saying. "Funny, that trait must have come from you."

Severus looked like he didn't know how to react to the flippant comment, and for a moment, he looked surprised. And then, his features turned dark and Harry knew that the push for civilized speaking was over. "You think you're so righteous don't you, because you are such a 'celebrity'!"

"Well, aren't _you_ mad?" Harry shot back, mockingly. "It bothers you, doesn't it? You're still not over the fact that for some reason, I got rid of your Dark Lord!"

Snape pushed himself to his feet, his face positively livid. "Say that again, I dare you!" He hissed.

"I got rid of your-Dark-Lord!" Harry shouted, jumping to his feet as well, knocking over his chair in the process. His heart felt near to bursting: What the hell was he doing, goading Snape on like this!

Snape's hand unconsciously went toward his wand, and seeing that, Harry's hand whipped into the pocket of his jumper, pulling out his own wand, leveling it with the Professor's that was now pointing in his direction. The two of them stood, wands drawn, each posed in a stance, ready to attack.

"Don't!" Snape warned.

"Try me!" Harry heard himself say. "Don't you dare come any closer!"

"You're insufferable, Potter. You think to attack me, here?"

"I've done it before, _sir_, and I won't hesitate to do it again."

Snape bristled at his words, and did not back down. "Lower your wand. You know you're not quick enough, anyway."

But Harry stubbornly kept an iron fist around his wand's handle. "Really? You think so?"

Now Snape looked exasperated. "You will lower your wand, now, Potter! How dare you draw it on one of your teachers!"

Harry laughed, sounding maniacal. "You drew it on me first, Professor. All because the truth of what I said hurts, doesn't it?" he couldn't believe he was taunting Professor Snape on like this. He was sure to lose Gryffindor all the house points they currently had (and then some!). His legs were beginning to feel like jelly and his hands started to sweat, but he stiffened his resolve: he'd already gone too far, there was no turning back.

"You don't know anything!" Snape's voice rose, thundering around the room and making Harry's spine tingle. "As always you jump to the wrong conclusions. To think - someone like you would be my son! What an embarrassment!"

That did it for Harry. The blood seemed to drain from his body, making him sway uneasily. The room swirled and for a moment, he thought he would vomit. His hold was slipping…and he could feel Bryce reach his hand out to touch him.

_**No!**_

"SILENCIO!" He screamed, ripping his self away from the cold fingers that were drawing him away from the real world. There was a burning sensation as he wrenched himself free of Bryce's grasp, who had taken the opportunity to delve into Harry's state of shock and try to take over. He staggered as the spell was released from the tip of his wand in the general direction of Snape.

But the Potions Master was ready. "Protego!" The spell rebounded off of him before it could hit, and hit Harry square in the chest, knocking him down. He let out a muffled gasp, but then, sat up, clutching weakly at his throat when he tried to make a sound but nothing happened.

Snape glared down at him, coldly. "You will go to your room and stay there for the rest of the night."

Harry scrambled to his feet, feeling utterly foolish and degraded. He suddenly found that he didn't want to ever appear before the man again, and decided that the punishment he was bestowed was the best possible thing to happen to him at the moment. Without looking at the elder man, he fled for the door, yanking it open angrily. "Oh, and while you're at it, make sure you don't make any noise."

A smirk of contempt played at the corners of Snape's lips at those last words, and Harry slammed the door shut behind him before running to his room. There, he slammed his own door shut and stood with his back against it, for the second time that day.

He couldn't stand that Snape got the last word – literally. Hot tears streamed down his face.

It was going to be a very long week indeed.

** To be Continued...

* * *

**

AN: Well, things aren't going to get suddenly pretty and all sunshiney now that they've figured out the truth. The struggle begins: oh the joys of parenting! (Not that I am one, so who am I to speak?) I hope that it was believable, and if there are any comments/suggestions/complains/concerns, please let me know! I look forward to your reviews again everyone. Thank you to Sensibly Tainted, Mimiheart, thee-unknown-factor-Incognito, optimistic girl94, junyortrakr, and mikemack for all the inspiration and the urge to keep going.

Please please review for me again! There's nothing an author loves more than to see what her readers think.


	12. Are you afraid of the dark?

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good….all right fine! Harry Potter does not belong to me. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim. 'Swallow the Knife' lyrics by **Story of the Year** are used here and I don't take credit for that.

AN: HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone! Terribly sorry about the mess up last time. (Blushes). With so many stories alternatedly getting updated, I made the mistake for the first time in my life of putting up the wrong story's chapter. Again, my humblest apologies. Sorry for the late update, please enjoy.

**_Warnings: None!_**

* * *

**Chapter 12:**  
**- Are you afraid of the dark? -**

**_Now our hands are tied…the problems lie within…_**

3 days passed and Harry refused to come out of his room except to use the washroom, which was just across the hall. He did not want to see Snape ever again: he was a silent prisoner.

Literally.

The silencing spell that had rebounded onto him had not yet worn off – he must have cast a very powerful one…so the days were spent in complete silence. He had nothing to comfort him except for Abcde's light.

He was hungry and tired – despite the fact that he spent the entire day holed up in his room, he could not sleep. If he did, he would have terrible nightmares and he was afraid that Bryce would enter his mind. He could not risk it.

He occupied himself instead, by cleaning up his bedroom and making it feel more like home. He erased all the cobwebs and scuffed clean all the surfaces from dust. He even managed to get a fire in the grate so he wouldn't feel so cold at night.

When he was too overwhelmed, he listened, numbly, to Abcde talk and watched her beautiful light shine and wash over him in comforting waves.

But even that had started to ebb over the course of the time she spent down in the dungeons with him. So much so that he began to worry that she would indeed, die. He felt like he was on the edge too…maybe dying would be better than this…..

By the fourth day, he could not stand it any longer. The pills he was supposed to be taking stared defiantly up at him from his dresser drawers, as if taunting him. He had to break the spell or Abcde would not last much longer – he would not last much longer. There was no choice but to face Snape again.

Just as he opened the door and stepped out into the hall, the Professor was just coming out of his own room, and the two of them froze, finally face to face.

Harry stiffened and felt the primary urge just to run back to his room and lock himself within. At the same time he refused to be the first one to turn away.

His hand went instinctively to his pocket where his wand lay at the ready, when he saw Snape move. He would not be caught unaware like the last time – he was always on guard now.

But Snape did not take out his wand, nor did he make a move to come any closer. Instead, he inclined his head slowly towards the direction of the kitchen. "Breakfast will be on shortly if you care to come down to it." His voice was monotone as he spoke. "Unless you insist to hole yourself up again."

Harry felt the floor sway under him, but he never moved. He felt like he had been turned on pause, or petrified. He stared up at Snape, hollowly wondering whether he could hold off on food for just a bit longer so long as he didn't have to be in the older man's presence.

"It won't help you if you don't take your pills." Snape continued, sounding desperate to cut the tension between them. "And you know as well as I do that they can only be taken after eating – and you're underfed as it is….."

Why the elder man was telling him something he already knew, Harry could only wonder. Could it be that Snape was worried about him?

Harry couldn't help but scoff at the thought.

_The sooner I'm gone the happier he'll be. _He thought, miserably. But those words were like a beam of light: the sooner he was out of Snape's presence, the better.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry found the courage to nod. And before he knew it, Snape had left him standing alone in the hallway.

Breakfast was an event.

When they sat down to the table, they resembled bottled sodas waiting to burst. And when food appeared before them, neither made a move to pick up their utensils; Harry kept his hands tightly balled into fists in his lap, while Snape sat rigidly, his eyes like black coals watching every move he made.

Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh. "It's bad manners to stare." He said, flatly.

Harry did not respond – he couldn't. Instead, he mechanically picked up his fork and poked at his bacon, suddenly very weak. The exhaustion and pent up anger had taken its toll on him – he was surprised to see that he wasn't falling over. He was afraid he would at any minute.

"Spell's still got your tongue tied?" That made him glance up warily. "Maybe I should leave you like that – it's better when you're not speaking."

If looks could kill, Snape would have died right away as his eyes met with Harry's.

He looked away quickly and waved his hand, silently reversing the spell that Harry had cast accidentally on himself.

"You shouldn't have tried to hex me."

"And _you _shouldn't have said that." Harry retorted, feeling his temper rise. He had a fine one and he was beginning to get used to letting it free. His voice croaked after not having used it for so long.

Snape cut through his meat slowly, choosing not to reply. Instead, he reverted back to familiar grounds: teachers could always order their students around.

That was their plane: Teacher and student.

Nothing else.

"After breakfast you will take the potion. You've delayed for long enough as it is: at this rate, you won't be leaving my quarters until halfway into the first month of the year. And I'm sure you'd rather not."

" I'll take it." Harry allowed, forcing himself to come to terms with the man, if it meant getting out faster.

"I'll be needing some more blood samples too right afterwards."

"Fine. Anything else?"

"No, that will be all."

"Then I'll be heading upstairs today – there are some things I need to get." It wasn't a lie. He wanted to grab his books and make sure that Abcde got some light while he was at it.

When Snape continually stared at him, he wondered whether or not the man would allow him to go. His temper that he had so carefully tucked away was resurfacing again, and quickly.

He was surprised at the answer he received. "Fine. I expect you back for lunch."

Feeling his muscles loosen, Harry nodded. At last, freedom.

Snape couldn't help but feel the same way.

The things between them would not be settled.

Not for a very long time…

**0-0-0-0-0**

"Harry! There you are! I was wondering what happened to you for the last couple of days!" Cecil cried, upon hearing Harry's voice. The latter had been speaking to Madam Pomfrey, telling her all his miseries, knowing it was safe to do so. Wanting to do so.

"Where have you been?" The younger boy asked. Harry noticed that he was using his cane but he did not bother to ask about it. Instead, he concentrated on the question that had been posed to him.

"I've been sick." He said, trying to make his voice sound casual.

Cecil raised an eyebrow. "I'm feeling better, though." He amended, quickly, before Cecil could press him for answers. "It must have been because of the time…the time that we stayed out in the cold for too long…"

"But you weren't in the hospital ward…." Cecil's voice was quiet.

Harry tried to keep his voice cheerful, but the thought of where he really had been was making it hard for him to do so. "No, I was in…my room." That wasn't a lie, but he had paused for too long with the answer and he saw Cecil cock his head to the side and purse his lips.

He knew he was lying.

"If you say so." Was all he said. "Madam, I guess I'll talk to you later. Harry, could you walk with me?"

Shooting an apologetic gaze to Madam Pomfrey, Harry complied, falling into step with the younger boy.

They walked for a while in silence, passing a group of students who were immersed behind their books, trying to finish off their homework, which they had left until the last minute. It couldn't be helped: vacations were to be celebrated.

Other than that, there was no one else in sight as they walked past the fourth floor.

"Harry, what's really wrong?" Cecil demanded at last. "I've never heard anyone lie so horribly in my life. For someone who's been able to keep such a huge secret to himself thus far, you sure make a bad false voice."

Harry was glad that Cecil could not see him blush. "Okay, so I'm lying." He finally relented, shoving his hands into his pockets. "But whatever it is I'm keeping a secret is none of your business." He hadn't meant for his voice to get harsh and commanding, and he bit his lip when he saw the younger boy flinch slightly. "Just leave it be, okay? When the time comes…"

"Yeah." Cecil sighed. "But you're all right?"

Harry squared his shoulders. "I will be." He promised, more to himself than to the Hufflepuff.

A grin broke out over Cecil's face. His cane bumped crudely into a body of armor, which turned its head toward him squeakily and clapped its shades down angrily. "Watch where you're going!" It snapped.

"Sorry." Cecil muttered, and with Harry's help, he steered himself away from it.

"Why are you using the cane anyway?" He asked, as they moved upward toward the fourth floor. There, the sound of wind was strong, as someone had left the window wide open toward the end of the hallway. It caused the fine strands of Cecil's dark hair to fly as he stepped toward the top of the stairs.

"It's a long story."

"Oh."

There were some secrets everyone kept to themselves, he supposed.

Something came sailing through the window, just then, and would have hit Cecil square on the head had Harry's long arm not come out on instinct to catch it. A Quaffle.

At his gasp, Cecil blinked unseeing eyes at him. "What happened?"

"You nearly got hit…."

"Quidditch?" His instincts were good.

"Yeah…." He tossed the ball nervously between his hands. He was reminded of the Gryffindor team. If Angelina caught sight of him again, would she recognize the change? Would she still want him on the team if she found out about his condition?

No, she wouldn't.

No one would.

His hands tightened around the ball momentarily before he shoved it toward Cecil. "Here, you take this." At the questioning intonation, he hurriedly explained, "I just remembered, I have something I have to do."

Cecil called after him, but he did not turn back. He caught sight of Angelina through the open window and he was glad that he had not stuck around.

He was a coward.

His feet led him to his dormitory, where he had left Abcde by the open window where she could bask in the sun's rays. She was sleeping peacefully still, and he hoped that when she woke, she would be better. He would have to leave her alone for the rest of the holidays, and he hoped she would understand.

Quickly, he grabbed the things he needed – rolls of parchment and ink bottles along with his new chess set and his brain teaser box to keep himself busy.

It was nearing lunch time, to his dismay, so he could not continue with his free roam of the castle. Snape would not be so forgiving if he came late, and he did not want another row with the man so he decided (with much regret) to go back down to the dungeons.

Sir Cadogan seemed ecstatic to see someone other than Snape. "Visitor?" He asked, importantly.

As much as Harry did not want to admit it, he nodded. "Can you please let me through?"

"Oh, all right! It's dreary down here….all by myself." The knight grumbled, swinging aside to let him enter after he had received the password. Harry felt most sorry for him: guarding rooms seemed boring enough – guarding Snape's rooms must have been torture.

Snape looked up from his desk as Harry entered. His dark hair was pulled back instead of hanging in their usual clumps around his face. It caused Harry to pause for a moment. He had never actually seen Snape's face uncovered like that before.

He was surprised to see that Snape didn't look as condescending as he normally did.

In fact, he looked quite….well, _normal_.

And for Snape, that was saying something.

He had a strong jaw line, something that was not seen with his hair in the way. He was so pale and thin that Harry had an unbidden thought enter his mind: they were alike in that way. He almost missed the fact that the elder man had dark rings under his eyes.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Snape stand up. "Good. I was expecting you to come late, as always."

Harry grit his teeth and looked away, not wanting to be like this man in any way, shape or form. "I'll just, uh….put my stuff away…." He said, awkwardly, sidestepping and making his way across the living room and into the hallway and then into the refuge of his given room.

Everything was still spic and span, and he carefully placed his things down at the foot of his bed before coming back out.

When he saw Snape again, the Potions Master was back to normal. His hair was let down again and he was sitting stiffly at the head of the dining table, waiting for him.

"Shall we begin then?" He asked, and as his hand waved in gesture, the food magically appeared before them. The silverware appeared too, and he picked up his fork. Harry imitated him, and the meal began in silence.

It was an improvement from earlier.

Surprisingly, it was a comfortable silence. Harry preferred it over having to speak to the man. What would they have to talk about? Nothing. Memories were best buried.

Just as he was finishing up, Snape decided to speak. "Classes start on Monday. I trust you've finished your work?"

"Yes." Harry answered, warily, in a tight voice. "Sir." He added, on an afterthought.

Snape nodded. "Good." He wiped his mouth with his napkin and got up. He staggered slightly as he did so, and Harry's eyes snapped up to him in surprise. But Snape composed himself quickly, gripping the back of his chair. "Then we'll begin the tests after you're finished eating."

"Tests?" Harry asked, the thought of Snape off-balance flying out of his head.

"Yes. I'll need several vials of your blood in order to do so."

Harry's heart jolted at the thought that Snape had finally found a solution. He managed a nod and finished off his mashed potatoes quickly. He then followed his teacher back into the living room where test tubes were waiting to be filled.

He sat down on the couch as Snape brought them over along with a syringe. He shivered involuntarily – did he even know how to use those?

"Relax." Snape snapped. "Make sure you don't tense up."

Harry pursed his lips. Forcing himself to push up the sleeves to his sweater, he watched as Snape carefully found a vein. Harry couldn't help but edge away as the man came closer.

Close encounters with Snape had never been good in the past….

With a sort of gentleness, the elder man carefully poked through his flesh and began to extract the blood. The pinch was not felt, because Harry was too busy staring down at his teacher.

Again, he saw the dark rings around the Potions Master's eyes. He could also smell the fumes of various potions clinging to the man's hair and skin. His fingers were cold against his skin and his mouth was pulled down into a frown of concentration.

When he was done, he had the teen drink something else, to keep him from getting dizzy. Harry didn't bother to argue, and took it.

"That will do." Snape said, corking the last vial shut after having transferred the blood from the test tubes into them.

Harry could not keep his anxiety at bay any longer. "Did you find something?" He asked, getting to his feet. He felt a bit wobbly but Snape's potion must have worked because he managed to find solid ground quite quickly.

"Nothing yet. I'm still in the process. In the meantime, boy, make sure you don't interfere with these samples too."

Harry scowled. "It wasn't me back then."

"Then keep your _friends_ locked up." Snape answered, scowling right back. "And try not to bother me any more than you already have. I've got more to do now that your case has gotten worse and I don't need any more interruptions."

As anger laced through Harry, his scar began to prickle. His hand instinctively went up to it, as the pain began to intensify. Soon, he lost his balance again, and found himself stumbling back to the couch.

Snape's face took on a look of alarm as the boy groaned. For a moment, nothing existed in Harry's world but him and the pain – it felt too much like when Bryce managed to free himself from the confines of his mind and tied him up.

It was like drowning. The back of his throat closed up and a hot, searing pain clawed over his brain.

Harry heard laughter.

_Please…no..._ he thought. Tears began to stream down his face in fear. He couldn't place his finger on the exact reason as to why his head hurt so much. He just wanted out – he wanted it to stop.

_Stop!_

It was as if a boulder hit him hard over the head and suddenly, there was a pause in the pain, like someone had put a cork on it.

He didn't remember blacking out.

_**- "What are you so afraid of, Harry?" -**_

_**- "The dark…." – **_

He fell with a thud, on cold, hard floor. The fall caused him to lose his breath when all the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Disoriented, he tried to sit up.

His head hurt so badly, he wondered if his brain was trying to tear its way out.

It was dark, except for a small beam of light that was coming from a doorway's window. Even so, it was not enough to light up the whole room. Harry could only make out a faint outline of a knife, lying no more than two feet away from him.

With a gasp of fear, Harry scooted back, momentarily forgetting about the pain in his head. Breathing hard, his eyes made out another silhouette….the body of a man.

Bryce.

"Oh, dear God!" Harry heard himself cry, pitifully, as Bruce stepped closer.

"Hello, Harry…." Bruce murmured, bending down slowly to pick the knife up.

"No…not you…" Harry whispered hoarsely. "How….?"

Bryce stepped even closer, causing the boy to push back in fear until his back hit a solid wall. He could do no more than whimper. "No one can save you, now."

"You're sealed!" Harry cried, desperately. "How did you get out?"

"I'm not out. Yet." Bryce said, in that same, calm voice. "_You_ entered my world, courtesy of the Dark Lord. He's been eager to meet with you."

At that, Harry's headache grew to such intensity that he screamed. It echoed off the walls of the room and lasted for quite a while. When they finally subsided, Harry found himself flat on his face, shaking.

Bryce was bending over him, knife in his hand. "So, you see, you and I are linked; the Dark Lord and I are linked, so, it doesn't take a genius to know that all three of us are linked in some way."

"No…."

Bryce laughed maliciously. "Oh, yes, Harry….deny it all you want, but your wards are no match for those of the Dark Lord's. Now, since you're in my company, why don't we play?"  
Harry could not find the strength to move. "Maje…Liliana…."

Bryce laughed again, and Harry's scar prickled. "They can't help you. They won't help you because they know the consequence if they open that door."

As if to prove his point, he heard a pounding come from the door, and Liliana's voice rang out, "Harry! Harry!" She sounded frantic. "Maje! Harry's in there with Bryce!"

Maje's voice joined Liliana's at the door. "Harry?" He pounded his fist against the door as well, the sound resonating through the relatively empty room and he peered in. "Bryce, don't you hurt him!"  
Bryce chuckled, the sound like nails scratching against the chalkboard. "Oh, Maje…hurt him? Now, why would I do that?" His hands tightened around the handle of the knife he held.

"You're sick, Bryce! You know that?"

"Oh now, that's not very nice." Bryce said, his voice sugary sweet as he raised the knife thoughtfully. "I'm not the one who's sick….remember…."

"Harry, we'll get you out!" Liliana called, her voice determined. "Stand _back_, Maje, I'm going to open the door." There was a scuffling sound as Maje must have moved aside for her.

"_Alohamo _- "

Harry lifted his head slightly, alarmed. His shout surprised even him – his voice rang loud, clear – panicked. "NO!"

The spell died on her lips and there was a pause.

"Don't open the door! If you do, he'll be free!"

Paris' wail followed. "Harry, you can't stay there with him!"

"Leave me." Harry commanded, feeling blinded by the pounding in his head. He forced himself to his knees, facing Bryce as valiantly as he could. He ended up looking sick and pale and rather pathetic. "I told you Bryce: I'll fight you till the end." He knew though, that his words were empty – with no wand and his condition – he could barely stay conscious.

Bryce winked. "Then, this is the end."

As much as he didn't want to, Harry collapsed as Bryce advanced, the pain too much to bear, the darkness a welcome friend, enveloping him again in its arms.

And once more, his screams filled his ears but this time, Bryce's laughter joined in, before he heard no more.

**_…and we pray for night to start over again…

* * *

_**

**To Be Continued…

* * *

**

_Preview for the next chapter:_

Harry peeked out from behind the wall's corner, and saw Malfoy holding one vial up, eyeing it critically, a frown creasing the boy's mouth downward. "Why do you have loads of that Potter Pal's blood here? Is that potion for him?"

This time, Snape sighed in annoyance. "Don't touch things you aren't familiar with. And if you don't stop ruining my concentration, this will come out wrong."

"What's wrong with Potter?" Draco demanded, ignoring Snape's reprimand. "Father told me that he was a freak."

* * *

AN: I decided to do a preview for the next chapter, so please look forward to it. I look forward to your reviews. Thank you so much, as always! It really helps me, and my dream is to reach at least 100 reviews. Look! I'm almost there! won't you contribute? Thanks to **Mimiheart, mikemack, SensiblyTainted, SpiritualWitch, and Thee-unknown-factor** for the wonderful reviews! 

Please review and see you next update!


	13. A Tender Heart

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES

By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...all original characters/ideas are mine to claim though.

AN: CELEBRATE! With your help I reached over 100 reviews! That makes me so happy, I could cry. I really, really, really appreciate it, everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**CHAPTER 13**

**- A Tender Heart - **

It was hard not to care.

At first, Snape tried to harden his heart against the agonizing cries coming from his newfound son. He would not care – he couldn't! He had made up his mind to hate this boy with everything he had since he had first laid eyes on him. The very thought of anyone having anything to do with James Potter made his blood boil.

But it was a difficult thing to do, to ignore someone in such pain, whether or not it was someone he wasn't fond of.

And so, his heart melted at the sight of the boy's writhing body and clawing hands. Instead, his alarm was great as he rushed forward to catch the teenager as he fell into a heap, unconscious.

He found that his hands were shaking, as he picked Harry up and brought him to his room. Did he always react this badly when someone mentioned his sickness? He couldn't believe so, as he draped the boy's limp form on his bed. The Headmaster would have said something if that were the case and the thorough reports Madam Pomfrey had been giving him would have mentioned it at the least.

Hovering over Harry's body, Snape checked his condition. His temperature was slightly higher than normal, his breathing erratic and his heart beat fast.

The potion.

He had to work on the potion.

This would not happen if he had the proper potion.

But for some reason, Snape did not want to leave his side. Something was still wrong.

After waiting for several minutes, he finally did, getting up from his position on the chair next to the teen's bed and making his way toward the stack of test tubes where Harry's blood samples lay.

He seemed to be losing his touch with his cold heart – why else would he have stayed up for the last three days working with such fervor on this potion? He could hardly believe himself, and he thought, ruefully, that James Potter would have crowed about it should he be alive.

Well, he was not alive.

He began to let the water boil in his cauldron, bending over his book, where he had written the instructions to his potion down. If there was something Snape was proud of, it was the fact that he was very good at coming up with different remedies and potions. He had been labeled a geek, a nerd and a loser for it when he had been younger. Finally, he could put it to use.

Soon, the smell of ginger filled the air and a cloudy blue smoke emanated from the cauldron in front of him. He was so engrossed in his concoction that he nearly dropped the blood sample at a shriek that came from Harry's room.

Frozen on the spot, Snape's head snapped up. From the clock on the wall, he was surprised to see that it was nearing ten o'clock already. Had he been working for that long?

The shriek came again and he quickly put the test tube down. In a swirl of black robes, he pushed his way into Harry's room, where the boy lay, writhing on the bed.

"What on earth?" Snape gasped, as Harry cried out again.

"NO!" The boy shouted, back arching off the bed as he fought an invisible enemy.

Snape rushed forward, as the boy screamed again, so loudly that it made his ears ring. He grasped Harry's shoulders, shaking him. "Potter! Wake up!"

But Snape's cry went unheard.

He tried to shake the boy awake, but that did not work. Had it been something in the potion that he had reacted to badly? Or had the extraction of blood somehow set this pain off?

The screams continued, well into the night. Snape was beginning to get really worried and had the thought to go get the Headmaster. He had tried to bring Harry out of his sleep with a spell, but even that had not worked – clearly there was darker magic involved.

He had just gotten to his feet in a rush when, almost as suddenly as it happened, Harry stopped screaming and lay still.

And for some reason, Snape's heart seemed to stop beating.

Was he dead?

He was by Harry's side again in a moment, kneeling next to him, checking his pulse.

It was fine.

The hair on the boy's forehead was stuck in clumps, a sheen of sweat covering his face. His hands were cold and clammy and his chest rose in labored pants. Unfortunately, he did not wake, and Snape resigned himself to sit by him, keeping watch.

Soon, the man's eyes drooped and his head began to nod. The past few days without sleep had taken their toll on him and he could not manage to fight off the lull of fatigue any longer. He decided that a few minutes of rest would not hurt. He lay his arms down by Harry's side, resting his head upon them.

The potion could wait.

In a few moments, he was in a deep sleep.

**0-0-0-0-0**

When Harry woke, it was with a start.

For a moment, he quite forgot where he was.The splitting headache was back, but not as strong as it had been before. Everything came rushing back to him in a wave so great, it made his head spin.

And then he vomited.

Every fiber of his being was aching and he could not even heave his body up to prevent throwing up on himself. He made a right mess and he choked on the bile, willing his body to move but it would not.

He gasped and finally, he jerked back, as a figure arose from his side, seemingly out of no where. His mind pictured Bryce's form, holding that knife and he moaned piteously, trying to breathe through the vomit that clogged his mouth and nose.

"Turn over boy, or you'll drown!" Snape cried, making a face. His hands went out and caught Harry's shoulders, turning him around and helping him into a sitting position.

Harry shivered, unable to do anything but let the Professor yank him into place. He felt like he was made of sawdust. The taste in his mouth was almost as unbearable as the pain in his head.

Snape quickly conjured water into a cup that he had transfigured and held it to the boy's lips. "Drink." He urged, and when Harry made no move to, he tilted the boy's head back and forced it down his throat.

He gagged, and spluttered, but finally, seemed to be able to move once more. "Please!" He gasped, as Snape held the water aloft, ready to shove it down his throat once more, to help clear his throat. "Stop!"

Snape put the glass down and strode forward just as Harry toppled off the bed. He caught him just before he could hit the ground, and found that he was surprisingly heavy. The diet seemed to be working after all, but that thought went clear out of Snape's mind at the smell coming from him. It was all he could do not to retch himself. "Are you all right?" he demanded, his tone sounding harsher than he would have intended, but then again, what could one expect from someone who had slept so little in three days time?

Harry groaned in response. "Please….make it stop….make it stop…."

Perplexed, Snape held him and struggled to settle him comfortably on the floor. As he busied himself with removing the soiled clothing because Harry seemed incapacitated to do so, he asked, "Make what stop? What is it?"

"My head…please…the pain…."

And once more, the boy doubled over. Snape could still not comprehend how he had come to be in such a wreck. "Y-your head?" He asked, his nerves shaken. When Harry did not answer, he shook him. "Are you ill? Answer me!"

But Harry was floating away from the world again and Severus was on the verge of panic. "How can I help you if you don't tell me what is wrong!"

Harry's eyes flew open, a sea of blue - and the water sparkled. "A headache…a very…bad….headache…." His hands went out to clutch at Snape's robes. "Please sir, I beg you….make it stop."

With tenderness he never knew he possessed, Snape gently took the hands away and removed the rest of Harry's robes, leaving his torso quite bare, and rested his head back against the floor "All right, you stay put. You'll be okay." He said, quickly, and quietly. "The pain will be gone soon." He spoke the words in the most reassuring voice he could muster, wondering if he could actually live up to them.

Was this how it was like to be a parent?

He came back only moments later, but to Harry, it seemed an eternity. Despite the fact that it was Snape who had come to his rescue, he felt a sort of comfort knowing that the man had jumped to help him.

He opened his eyes as Severus strode back in, purposefully, holding a vial. "Sit up now, as best you can and drink this. It will help with the pain."

Gratefully, Harry did as he was told and had trouble swallowing it. He never knew a potion could taste so awful, but he needed it badly – he would have swallowed any acid just to be rid of the pain.

"It will take a while." He heard Snape murmuring. "In the meantime, stay right where you are."

Harry did not bother to answer, as he was helped in returning to the floor once more.

And then, a silence settled over them again.

Harry did not know what to say. He didn't even want to think, scared that his head would explode. The effects of the potion had still not taken effect and he concentrated instead on breathing slowly and deeply.

On the other hand, Snape watched him critically, thinking deep thoughts. He could not understand his mixed emotions of fear and panic. Could it be that he really did care for the boy? No, it was impossible for that right now. Besides, Harry would never care for him back. They were two strangers with a link so foreign they would not become familiar with it so soon.

Perhaps in time they would, but not now. He reached up onto the bed and pulled down the blanket, draping it over the young one's undressed figure.

"Thank you…." Harry mumbled, eyes half closed. The pinched look of pain on his face was slowly diminishing and soon, he fell back into a peaceful slumber, no nightmares plaguing his mind.

And it was then that Snape noticed the second change in Harry's appearance. His face had lost its roundness. Instead, it was longer and his jaw more fixed. It was not an obvious change, but Snape knew the shape well – he saw it in the morning every day when he looked into the mirror.

_Oh fates, it was true..._

Resigned to the fact, he rose from his spot and made his way back outside, leaving the door open just in case Harry had a struggle again.

Sleep had been denied the elder man, and even if he tried to claim it, he couldn't. There was still a lot to be done. And after what had happened, he found that he wasn't in the mood for sleep any longer – an idea had just come to his mind.

A potion to stop time – or something like that. To reverse time, instead of speeding it up. His strides grew more confident as he neared his cabinet with all his ingredients – An Aging Potion was surely able to be reversed. At the same time, he could manipulate it with just the right amount of Polyjuice Potion that it was sure to slow the process down. Now, he just had to figure out the math and the procedure.

He was so excited about the solution that he got to work on it right away. Soon, the room was smelling like burnt fish and coal, but he hardly noticed. He felt like he had made a discovery and that he hadn't had such a refreshing challenge like this one for quite some time. Although the Wolfsbane potion he was always trying to revise and perfect, he finally found something much more interesting.

Unfortunately, toward lunch time, he found he had made next to no progress whatsoever.

By Monday, school would resume, and the clock was ticking.

He had less than 60 hours left until the deadline.

**0-0-0-0-0**

When Harry awoke next, he was bundled comfortably in his bed, with the coverlet tucked around him carefully. The fire in the grate was burning brightly, and the door to this room was slightly ajar.

Feeling like his body was made of lead, he groaned. Other than his pitiful whine, there was no other sound except for the crackling fire. As to what time of the day it was, he had no clue. The hands to the clock sitting on his bedside table had ceased working for some strange reason, so he could not tell even from that.

He could tell that Snape was just beyond the doors. He could not quite explain the reason how he knew – he just knew. He wondered whether it would be safe to get out of bed, and whether the Professor was busy or not.

And then, he heard a sound that nearly made his heart stop beating. Well, he was certain it skipped a beat, as the door leading in from the portrait frame opened. Someone else had entered. He heard Snape stand up from his chair, and cross the room.

"Why did you send me this rubbish?" It was a boy's voice. Malfoy's voice to be exact. Harry felt his heart leap up to his throat.

"It's a book, Draco." Snape said, smoothly, as if used to the boy's tantrums.

"Well, I told you I don't need books. I wanted a new broom!"

"I'm sure Lucius would be able to appease you with that." Snape replied, calmly. "But he wouldn't be too pleased seeing you gallivanting instead of spending more of your time studying for your NEWTs. In fact, if I hadn't been so generous, I wouldn't have given you that OWL last term." There was a shuffling sound and Snape continued. "I got you that book because I believe that you were falling behind more than usual lately. I would appreciate it if you would at least read it. Afterwards, you can do to it what you will. Burn it for all I care, but only after you've read it."

Draco's voice sounded sulky. "You wouldn't fail me."

"Try me."

Harry slowly crept out of bed, tiptoeing across the room so as not to make a sound. He found himself holding his breath for fear that he would be heard. He shook slightly from the cold air on his bare torso.

Peeking out he managed to see Draco pacing the room, in an agitated manner. He could see Snape's form as a shadow on the wall, no doubt made by the fire in the grate. The shadow seemed to be working with test tubes. The clinking sounds attested to that.

"Draco, calm down. You seem very hyper today. Is something the matter?"

"Nothing." Draco said, too quickly, plopping himself down on the couch.

"It doesn't seem like 'nothing.'"

"Oh, stop acting like you're my father!" The teen snapped.

Harry had to wince at that one. _'You can have him.'_ He thought, almost desperately.

But Snape didn't seem ruffled. "_You're_ the one who barged into my quarters. You only come here when something is seriously wrong. Like the last time your father - "

"-I know what my father did." Draco interrupted, hastily. It had taken on an edge of panic. "And it's not that. Not that at all!" He sounded hesitant for a moment before he said quietly, "My mother wants me to take the Dark Mark."

Standing by the doorway, Harry had to stifle his gasp of surprise. So, the Malfoys were supporters of the Dark Side. He could have guessed. He wished he could see Snape's reaction to that news. But then again, he most probably already knew. He heard the man ask, "Why don't you?" Coolly. No surprise, no hint of suggestion, no implication of distaste – mere curiosity. Harry felt his stomach churn.

"You're telling me to?" Draco lifted his head in surprise.

The test tubes clinked and Snape's answer was a calculated one. "I'm not telling you to do anything in this. It's your choice if you want to or not."

Draco buried his face into his pale hands, his fingers threading themselves through is pale blond hair. "I don't know who else to turn to." He said, helplessly. "If I don't take the mark, Father will never forgive me. And yet, if I do…."

Snape never answered, and a long silence followed with an occasional clink of the test tubes, but other than that, neither Professor nor student bothered to continue with the topic.

Harry was about to tiptoe back into bed, when suddenly, Draco asked, "Sir, what are you working on?"

He felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"A potion." Snape answered.

"Really? ….Is that blood?"

More clinking sounds, and a "Yes."

Harry made it back to the doorway in time to see Draco getting off the couch and disappearing out of view. At that moment, he felt as if his stomach was slowly making its way down to his feet, while his heart fought its way up to his throat. He strained to hear what they were saying, but it was impossible to do so from where he was.

So, Harry crept out into the hallway, keeping out of sight, his back pressed up against the cool, smooth wall. Taking in short breaths, he heard, " '_Potter _Potion'?"

Harry peeked out from behind the wall's corner, and saw Malfoy holding one vial up, eyeing it critically, a frown creasing the boy's mouth downward. "Why do you have loads of that Potter Pal's blood here? Is that potion for him?"

This time, Snape sighed in annoyance. "Don't touch things you aren't familiar with. And if you don't stop ruining my concentration, this will come out wrong."

"What's wrong with Potter?" Draco demanded, ignoring Snape's reprimand. "Father told me that he was a freak."

Snape's expression changed into that of a small smile. Or was it a grimace? From the distance, Harry could not tell, but for some reason, he hoped it had been the latter. "And you're going to believe everything your father says, now are you?"

Draco's smile vanished. In its place was a haunting look. "Potter is a freak. Just because he's so famous he thinks he's all high and mighty. What's the potion for? To cure his big head?"

"You're jealous of him." Snape pointed out, adding in a drop of some purple liquid that foamed. It caused whatever was in the cauldron to bubble.

"Of that loser? Never. Father says he's disabled somehow." A smug look settled onto the boy's handsome features. "This Potion that you're making proves the point to me. What is it for?"

Harry held his breath. Why was he so insistent on finding out? Would Snape tell him? His heart was pumping harder now, and Harry strained to listen.

Snape corked the test tube he had in his hand, containing the bright red essence of Harry's blood. "Mr. Potter has been having anemic spells for the last couple of days, and it is in my duty, says the Headmaster, that he should get a fortifying potion. Now, are you quite done pestering me, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy put the vial down, and shrugged half-heartedly. Harry relaxed at that, glad that Snape had kept the secret to himself. He concentrated on calming himself down, while the other teen absently ran a hand over the wood on Snape's desk.

Unbeknownst to Harry or Snape, Draco caught sight of the papers sitting on the shelf that were strewn carelessly in a jumble. On the top the words _'…mental conditions unstable for the last two days. There has been no communications with his other self for a record of four weeks up until…_" were written clearly in Madam Pomfrey's writing. He could not read the whole article though, because Professor Snape was speaking again.

"I've got a lot to do, Draco, so you should return upstairs to your dormitory. School starts again tomorrow so I hope you've finished your homework."

"Yes sir." Draco said, absently, his mind mulling over the words that had been written. He gave no indication to his Professor that he had read them, but merely picked up the book he had had a tantrum over just a while ago and made to leave the room. "See you tomorrow, Professor."

"Mr. Malfoy, I expect you to read it." Snape said, not looking up as the boy weaved his way toward the portrait door.

"Yes sir." Draco said again, pushing the door open and stepping out.

As the door to the portrait closed behind him, Draco paused in the hallway.

"I say boy!" A voice behind him called out. "_En garde_!"

"Shut up." Draco snarled, turning around.

"How dare you!" Sir Cadogan shouted, brandishing his sword in an extravagant manner. "Fight me like a man."

Draco made a face, and shook his head. If this sorry portrait had been in his house, his father would have torn it down ages ago. Sighing, he tucked the book under his arm, and made his way down the hallway.

He could not, for the life of him, understand the words that had been written on that sheet of paper. In his mind's eye, he read it again, and he made up his mind: he would not return to the dormitory.

For the first time ever, he decided to go do some research on his own – about the Boy Who Lived. He headed for the library.

**To Be Continued...

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AN: Will Draco find out Hary's secret? I'm sorry I was late in updating this time around. I know, I should have no excuses. The next chapter will be out by next week, hopefully, so please review for me again! Your inspiring comments keep me going as always. Thanks again to all my reviewers and here is a chapter preview!

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_ How could he get past Snape?_

_ He felt like he was going to be sick again when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It was like seeing a stranger looking back at him and he quickly looked away, not wanting to see it again._

_ How much worse could it get?_

_ Maybe it would be better if he ended it all…his pills were kept safely from him and were the hands of Snape, but his wand lay on the table top, ready for use and with just a flick, he could be free. His hand began to reach for it..._

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Don't forget to review! 


	14. When Wishes Are Said

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES  
By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim though.

AN: Here's the next chapter update, sorry for the wait everyone. Just a quick recap before reading on: Malfoy is intent on learning everything he can about Harry now that he has gotten a glimpse of Harry's medical files. Will he catch on? Please enjoy!

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**CHAPTER 14**

**-When Wishes are Said –**

Deeming it was safe, Harry cautiously stepped into the living room. It was a mess! There were so many books strewn about the place that Harry didn't know where to look first. Math equations, potion books, loose leaf papers, bottles, glasses – name it, it was there. It was a wonder that Snape could still be seen beneath it all. At the moment, the man had his hooked nose bent over a page, busily scribbling away.

It was a while before Snape looked up, and when he did, he jumped upon seeing the teenager standing in the room. "Merlin! How long have you been standing there?"

"What was Malfoy doing here?" Harry demanded, ignoring the man's question.

"It doesn't matter; he's none the wiser about anything." Snape said knowingly, as he corked the very last test tube. He held it up, checking its contents before returning to scribble on the same page. "For the meantime, how are you feeling?"

Harry scratched at his shoulder. "Better." He thought it strange that Snape would bother to express concern.

Snape nodded curtly. "Then, get dressed at least! Honestly, walking about with nothing but a pair of pants." He shook his head, mumbling something about common sense and ignored Harry, returning to his obsessive research.

Feeling himself flush with both annoyance and embarrassment, Harry turned to go back to his room, pulling on the first shirt he laid his hand upon. The memory of the night before was still vivid in his mind, and as if to protest the reminder, his scar seemed to throb. Rubbing at it absently, Harry went about making up his bed and straightening out his room all the while thinking deeply about the nightmare and about how Snape had had to be the one to come to his rescue.

He was just fixing his alarm clock when a knock came at the door, and he was betrayed into a jump. His nerves felt like they were all scrambled, and he looked up at Snape who stood just outside of the doorway. "Potter, are you always so inattentive?"

"Sorry?" He asked, blinking.

"I've been calling you out for the last five minutes. Are you telling me that you're now deaf as well?"

"I've always _chosen _to be deaf to the likes of you." Harry snapped, putting his clock back down with a bang. It gave a little clang, but he paid it no mind.

Snape smirked, and it surprised the teen only slightly. He had thought that Snape would start yelling back. "Is that so? Then don't complain to me when I take another five points off of Gryffindor for it."

Harry got to his feet. "You wouldn't dare."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes I would, Potter – and there would be nothing you could do about it."

"I hate you." Harry growled, his blue eyes fixed on the man's face.

The smirk never left Snape's mouth. "Oh, you already told me that. And I've already told you that the feeling's mutual."

Harry let loose a word that shall not be repeated, and Snape's smirk turned into a frown. "That's five points from Gryffindor for real, now, for your language young man." He straightened to his full height, the menacing air about him again. "That's already a fair few that you've lost for your house."

That did it for the teenager. He got to his feet. For some reason, he could feel nothing but pure hate for this man in front of him. He wanted to hit him! Just as he was about to do something he probably would have really regretted, an ice cold feeling spread through him, all the way down to his fingertips and he took a deep breath – he had seen himself in the mirror.

And he paled visibly.

Staggering, the back of his legs hit the baseboard of his bed and he almost toppled over. His hands came up to touch his face, in a disbelieving way.

Another change…

Snape did not seem ruffled at all by his reaction. "If you're quite done sulking, come out to eat when you're ready. I will not wait on you hand and foot, do you hear me?"

But Harry was still so lost in his shock that he did not hear those words. Snape left in a huff, and the boy was alone again, once more to his deep thoughts. He buried his face in his hands, feeling the weight of his secrets on his shoulders.

It took all of his will power to pull himself together again. He was being shattered slowly and surely, but he would not let himself get crushed. The only thing he was sure of was that he did not want to be there – he needed to get out.

But how could he get past Snape?

He felt like he was going to be sick again when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It was like seeing a stranger looking back at him and he quickly looked away, not wanting to see it again.

How much worse could it get?

Maybe it would be better if he ended it all…his pills were kept safely from him and were the hands of Snape, but his wand lay on the table top, ready for use and with just a flick, he could be free. His hand began to reach for it.

_Coward…_

The voice echoed somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind and Harry froze, his eyes lingering on the wooden stick. He was reminded of what Cecil had done to himself. Slowly, he retracted his hand and stared at it in horror.

Jumping to his feet, he bolted out the door, not wanting to go anywhere near his room, or his wand.

He nearly crashed headlong into Snape, who was just rounding the corner, coming to look for him. He didn't stop at the surprised gasp, nor did he slow down when he heard him calling, "Where are you going? Potter? Potter!" The portrait door slammed behind him as he rushed out, Sir Cadogan's voice calling out after him too, but he paid that no mind as well.

Blindly, he moved, his mind full and yet, at the same time, strangely empty. Moments later, he found himself standing by the entranceway of Professor Dumbledore's office, his chest heaving because he was winded from running up all those stairs.

He hadn't even noticed that he had run past his friends and several other students who had just returned from their vacations.

What did he plan on doing? He stared at the gargoyle, his breathing shallow. The cold feeling was spreading slowly and he wondered if he'd collapse.

Feeling absolutely foolish, he began to turn away. The Headmaster could not make things any better – if anything, he'd make things worse. He jumped when the Gargoyle suddenly sprang aside and the old man himself exited.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh, Mr. Potter, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"N-nothing." Harry mumbled, stepping back. "I was just…" He did not finish his sentence because the Headmaster was now eyeing him critically.

"Where is Severus?"

"Who cares?" Harry said, angrily, his eyes flashing as he clenched his fist. He started to feel light-headed. "I can't stand him; I'm not going back."

"But you must." Dumbledore told him, moving back inside his office and unconsciously, Harry followed.

Once safely inside the room, the Headmaster turned to face him again. "Harry, you need to relax. You must control your emotions. If you don't, you'll only speed up the process and your personalities will become more liberated. The harder it will be to reign them in, and I know that Bryce is just waiting for that to happen." As he spoke, he conjured up a cup of tea for the boy.

Harry sat himself down on the armchair and took the cup gratefully. The warmth of it began to instantly start warming his hands, bringing with it a soothing, relaxing feeling.

The portraits on the walls were watching with keen interest.

"You are of age now." Dumbledore said, calmly. "I will not tolerate you flying into rages."

"But Professor, you don't understand - " Harry began to protest.

" – You're right, I don't, and I can't even begin to imagine what you must be feeling. But for Merlin's sake, Mr. Potter, you must remember that you are in a very difficult condition.

"Your emotions are critical and you must not let them get away from you. At least try to come to terms with Severus."

Harry looked up to see Dumbledore peering down at him expectantly. "If I'm of age now, then I don't need him to tell me what to do." The teen said, tightly.

"He's your legal guardian and until the spell which James has placed upon you has disappeared and this whole predicament is over, it is your duty to listen to Professor Snape. After that, it is up to the both of you to decide what you will do from there."

The boy looked down at the cup in his hands. The china was thin and fragile, much like he was feeling. He didn't know what to think anymore.

"You have to give him a chance, Harry. It must be hard on him too."

Nodding, Harry absently rotated the cup in his hands around and around, before raising it to his lips and draining its contents. Dumbledore was right, as usual – his attitude was not helping matters any. He only resulted in making himself look like a weak fool and a spoiled brat; he would have to call for another truce. He got to his feet, smoothing his robes out as he did so. "I'm sorry, sir, for my behavior." He said, blushing slightly and when he did, he looked very handsome indeed. "It won't happen again."

"Let's hope not." The Headmaster said, kindly, motioning him to leave. "It's hard to keep these secrets to yourself. Remember: no one is stopping _you_ from telling who you want. Sometimes it's better to have friends to rely on in times like these."

Smiling weakly, Harry nodded once, and took the opportunity to leave, excusing himself.

When he was back in the dungeons, certain that no one had followed him, Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself down before entering.

Snape had cleaned up the earlier mess, the papers now neatly stacked, the books put back onto their shelves and a row of brightly colored test tubes and glasses lined the back desk easily, all topped and labeled clearly. There was a funny smell in the air, of something that was burning.

The man was standing next to his cauldron, cleaning up, wringing the rag he had in his hands out and looking up as Harry entered.

"Professor, we need to talk." He said, his voice sounding strangely distant in his ears. As Snape's lips turned up into its characteristic sneer, Harry took a step forward. He did not want to hear the snide comment, nor see Snape's eyes glitter so maliciously as they always did. He hurriedly said, "I'm going to be frank: this operation isn't going to work if we don't come to some sort of agreement with each other."

"What's this, maturity?" Snape asked, dryly, moving briskly towards a stack of papers which did not appear to be as neatly piled as the others.

"I'm serious, Severus."

That caused Snape to turn around. "What did you call me?"

Harry did not look the least bit ruffled by his indignant glare. It seemed as if Snape would fly into a righteous rage of his own, but he never moved. "If you think that I'll start calling you 'dad' any time soon, you're mistaken." He said, evenly. "Now are you willing to listen?"

"You've got my attention." The man snarled.

"I want to be out of your presence as much as you want me out of yours." He leaned against the couch as he spoke, never breaking eye contact with the elder man. "So, until that time comes, can we try to get along?"

Snape was silent, measuring his every word silently. This boy actually differed from James, whom he thought was an exceedingly arrogant git that would never propose such an offer.

Finally, he decided: "If we are to have an agreement, then the terms stand as these: first, if you're not going to call me anything more intimate, you will resume addressing me as 'Professor' or 'sir' at all times." Snape told him, shuffling the pages together, in an almost nervous fashion. "Second, you're to follow any medical instructions I give you. _And_ you must tell me where you're going – you have a nasty habit of disappearing when you want to without telling a soul. I want to know where you are at all times. Do we have a deal?"

"Only if you promise me that you won't try to follow me wherever I go." Harry said.

"Very well, I promise." Snape muttered. "You shall have the personal space you require. However, I will not tolerate you getting yourself into unnecessary danger."

"Then it's a deal." Harry said, sticking his hand out. "Truce?"

Severus stared at it for a few moments before grasping it in his own, the size very different. They held the handshake for a few moments before letting go.

"Now that that's settled," Snape fished out a page and began leading him over to the desk, "follow me."

Harry did so, walking a few paces behind the man, eyeing the vials on the desk. There was an abundance of dark green substance more so than the others.

"Is that…polyjuice potion. Sir?" He added quickly.

"Glad to see that you were paying attention to something in my class." Snape remarked, nodding.

"I pay attention in every class." Harry said, irritably. "You're always such a jerk to me, though."

Snape crossed the room toward the drink. "I've ever reason to be, when you look half asleep in nearly all of them. You can never produce anything worth marking." He picked up another vial of clear fluid and began to pour it into the vial of green glop slowly. It began to turn purple and smoke. As it did so, a sweet smell in the air took the place of the burning one from earlier.

He held it up, saying proudly, "You're to drink this, the finished product." He handed it to the teen, who looked at it skeptically.

"What did you do to it?" Harry demanded. "Sir?" He added again.

" It's two potions in one." Snape explained, picking up one stack of papers and thumbing through it. "The polyjuice potion and the reverse-age potion." That left Harry completely baffled.

"Of course," Snape continued, "it's not smart to combine two potions but I've figured out the solution and have yet to see if it works. I'm certain it does though – your blood was very difficult to work with." He found the page he was looking for and set it aside.

"It took a while to reverse the ageing potion," Snape said, re-stacking the pages in his hands, "but there was a way." He pulled the sheet he had set aside closer to himself, scanning the contents of the sheet which seemed to be covered in small, scraggly writing that did not seem to be legible. Then, he spoke again. "I tested its compatibility with your blood. At first, it didn't work well at all, but after I revised the formula quite some bit, it worked like a charm." His voice sounded excited, and the grin that suddenly spread on his face actually became him.

Harry glanced at the vial again, his mouth still pulled into a frown. Before he could speak, Snape was back to ruffling through the papers once more and speaking, "I don't expect you to understand everything," he was saying, "but I'm just giving you the facts: it's not poison."

Harry still did not make a move. He wasn't sure if he trusted Snape with this. He had betrayed him before – what if….?

"If you don't want to take it, that's fine with me, but don't go getting yourself worked up if you have another major change tomorrow." Huffed Snape.

"And how exactly do you know that tomorrow I won't be having another change if I take this potion?" Harry demanded, forgetting to add any address to the elder man whatsoever.

"I don't know." Snape said, shrugging, as he continued to search for another sheet. "But I'm fairly positive that it will work. I had to sort your blood with whatever blood of James remained in you. There was not a lot to work with. The polyjuice potion should hold for a day at most, so if you take the potion daily, the reverse-age potion should kick in and slow the process of your changes.

"I've made a couple of vials only, but if I need to, I'll make more. The most you need a day is a mouthful anyway, so this one vial could last you up to 3 days." He looked expectantly at Harry, who was still holding the glass aloft.

For a few minutes, Harry thought hard on whatever Snape said. True, he didn't understand all the mechanics of the potion, but he had nothing else to rely on at the moment. If he changed again tomorrow, people were bound to see the difference.

The professor had gone back to searching for the sheet, and Harry caught a glimpse of whatever had been written on the first sheet. Equations galore mounted it easily, in complex formulas that Harry could not begin to try to understand.

Hesitantly, he sniffed at the vial. The sweet smell reminded him of walking into the candy store back in Hogsmeade. Still, it looked as if he would not be able to swallow the gunk as it was so thick.

Experimentally, he tasted it. He expected to retch and find it disgusting, but he found he quite liked the taste. Whatever Snape had done to the potion had really worked. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he downed it in one go, hoping that he wouldn't gag and throw it back up. He didn't. The taste held a mint flavor, going down like water, and his stomach accepting it with ease.

Snape was watching him, with his beady black eyes. Harry handed back the bottle slowly. "Is that all then, sir?"

Snape nodded, his greasy locks bouncing. "For now, yes. I've got some sleep to catch up on, so do your best not to set anything on fire while I do so."

Harry glowered and Snape gestured to the door. "If you want to leave, be my guest – but I expect you back by tonight."

Harry frowned again. "But sir, what about Gryffindor Tower?"

"-When I am certain that the potion has worked, you can return there promptly. Now," His face took on a weary look, the dark circles under his eyes very visible despite the curtain of hair that usually hid them from sight, "let me rest."

_**(0-0-0-0-0)**_

They laughed as he fell, his glasses skittering across the floor. The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the ground, face first.

"Who do you think you are, Potter?" Mihail sneered. "I heard you threaten Andrey! Did you really think you could get away with it? Do you care to repeat what you said to him?"

Harry sat up, feeling as though the room was spinning. All he could see were fuzzy bodies standing around him. "I didn't threaten anybody!" He protested again, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, blinking. All he had been aware of was being pulled out of The Square and being shoved around by the other boys. He didn't even remember talking with Andrey, let alone know who he was.

He cried out as Mihail delivered a well-aimed kick to his side. "I was there!" He shouted, angrily. "Don't pretend you don't know anything." He kicked him again, enjoying Harry's agonized cry.

"I really don't know anything!"

But his protest was useless. This time, Tsankov punched him, splitting his lip open. "I say we teach the Potter bug some manners." There was a collective agreement and some cracking of knuckles.

And so they began, and Harry lost track of where or who the punches and kicks were coming from. It was when he saw blood that he began to start feeling cold. His breathing became erratic and heavy as he fought down panic. His right eye was swollen and probably black, his lip bleeding. Somewhere, a few feet away, his glasses lay broken.

"Stop!" he was screaming, pitifully. He brought his hands up to cover his head, but it didn't help much. By this time, a crowd of other students had come to watch, a few calling out that they should stop while the others were egging them on. Two of them ran to get a teacher.

He heard Filip scream, "Stop it! You'll kill him!"

They didn't stop. If anything, it only served to enrage them more, and soon, Harry was so cold, he began to turn numb. And then, he blacked out completely.

Or so he thought.

The next thing he knew, he woke up again, 3 days later, to find out that he had somehow sent three boys to Durmstrang's Hospital ward.

The worst thing was…he did not remember doing anything.

**To Be Continued….

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**AN: The next chapter should be out in about two weeks time, and as always, I thank you for your constant support and for your reviews. Sorry it was so short.

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**Preview for the next chapter: **

"Surprise, surprise, he's early." Snape said, more to himself than to Harry.

"Excuse me, sir…" Harry leaned forward as the carriage came to a stop. He peered out again at the platform and still saw nobody. "Who exactly is _'he'?_"

Snape pushed himself out of the carriage, and Harry stumbled after him, lugging his trunk with him, now full in size. "Your Uncle." And he nodded at the dog.

Harry pushed his glasses up, wondering if he was quite sane. His uncle was…._a dog_?

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**Please do review for me again, and thanks for reading!**

**-Chiki**


	15. Duel!

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES

By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim though.

AN: Hi everyone! Thanks for waiting for this chapter - as some of you may already know, my computer got virused and I had to re-write this as I couldn't retrieve the file anymore. Please enjoy the next chapter.

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**Chapter 15**

**- Duel! -**

Professor McGonogall stopped teaching as all heads turned toward the door. There was a clattering sound followed by a curse.

At the entryway, Harry had dropped all his books in his rush of get inside the class. Picking them up, he hurriedly went to his place next to Ron, who looked up in surprise.

"All right there, mate?" He asked, putting down his quill. Harry seemed winded and paler than usual. Something else was wrong but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"Just fine." Harry whispered back, throwing his bag underneath his desk and flopping into his chair. "It's complicated…"

"You weren't in the common room last night." Ron insisted.

Harry opened his mouth to make some sort of excuse, but he was interrupted as Professor McGonogall snapped, "Mr. Potter, it's bad enough that you're late, please don't talk during class. You'll disrupt everyone's concentration."

Padma Patil and her friend giggled at this, jostling each other with their elbows. Face reddening Harry mumbled an apology, before bending over his books.

He had not had a very restful sleep at all – he had tried to stay awake so as not to have to face Bryce in his dreams – but his fatigue overwhelmed him in the end. Thankfully, he had had a dreamless sleep, but he had slept in, right through his alarm clock.

The lesson was long and tedious covering something Harry already knew. Beside him, Ron was absent-mindedly writing the letters _'H.G'_ on his page, tracing them over and over again, until Harry was quite certain that the ink had leaked through the parchment and stuck permanently onto the desk underneath. Funny how it was not just the girls who did stupid things like that when they daydreamed.

Across the aisle from them, Hermione was feverishly taking notes, her quill moving so fast that it was a blur. Finally, after the formal lesson had finished and everyone had been instructed on what to do, they began to practice. The books were handed out and the transfigurations had begun.

Ron turned to Harry again, brandishing his wand. "We were worried about you, because we saw you running by yesterday. Were you okay? Where were you? What was so complicated?" It seemed that he had not forgotten the topic so easily.

Harry hunched his shoulders slightly at the sudden onslaught of questions he had known were coming. "I wasn't well, so I was in the hospital wing." He lied.

_Number one._

He eyed Ron's wand apprehensively, as the boy flicked it, tapping the book cover, but not getting the results that were expected. Harry waved his own wand, tapping the book and efficiently turning it into a pillow as they had been instructed to do. "We learned it at Durmstrang." He explained, as Ron gaped in surprise – his book had changed into a deformed-looking pincushion. "Anyway, I'm fine now, but Madam Pomfrey may want to keep me in the wing for another night."

_Number two._

"What happened?" Ron asked, picking up his transfigured product and poking at it experimentally. Harry reached over and returned the book to its original state with a sigh.

"A nasty spell." He allowed. "A severe headache." At least that wasn't a lie. "Oh, look." He hastily changed the subject, pointing to Neville who had managed to somehow change his book into a half-chicken, sprouting wings and feathers, the book letting out an ugly squawk. Ron rolled his eyes and Professor McGonogall ran over to help correct the problem.

"Listen, you don't suppose you could teach me how it's done, do you? McGonogall's like to give me extra homework if I don't get it right." He looked nervously at the Professor who did not seem very pleased with Neville's handiwork.

"Sure." Harry said, shrugging. He was glad Ron was not thinking about his earlier questions. "If you teach me how to play wizard's chess later."

"Deal." Ron said eagerly, picking up his wand again.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Double Potions was something that Harry was not looking forward to. How would Snape react? Would he revert to being the same as he had been back then? Would he give away his secret?

He found out as he took his place beside Hermione who did not have the chance to speak because Snape swept into the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Take your seats." He all but growled, causing the class to pipe down. On the board, the words _"Essence of Murtlap_" magically appeared. "Today, you'll be concocting the potion in which to heal cuts and wounds." He announced. "The instructions are on the board," as he spoke, the ingredients and steps appeared on the board right under the title, "as are the things you will need.

"I want a vial of it at the end of the period, and there is _no need for talking_." He looked pointedly in Harry's direction. "Mr. Potter has already lost a generous amount of points from Gryffindor over the vacation, so if you'd like to thank him for that, you may." He smirked, as some of the Gryffindors turned to shoot Harry some nasty glares. It caused the teen to redden. He felt his anger spark, but he reminded himself not to get ruffled: it was probably Snape's way of testing him.

"I suggest," Snape was saying, "that everyone keep their mouths shut unless you've something intelligent to say, which in that case, everyone should say nothing at all as they never do."

He glared at them all, as if challenging them to protest. When no one did, he nodded slightly. "Begin."

There was a great scraping of seats as the students scrambled to get their ingredients and set up.

Harry bent down to his bag as well. Snape had a bad habit of bearing down on him in that class so he wanted to make sure that he was up to scratch. However, with a sinking feeling, he realized that he had left all his things back in his dormitory room. As he had gone immediately to his lessons from the dungeons, he had had no time to get them.

He glanced in Snape's direction and was relieved to find that he was busy hovering over someone else's cauldron on the other side of the room. He kept his voice to a whisper. "Hermione…could I share with you? I left my things…."

She glanced in Snape's direction too and then raised an eyebrow at him before pushing the ingredients forward. She glanced in Snape's direction once more for extra measure before whispering back, "Harry, what on earth made Snape mad enough to take house points off during the vacation?"

Harry rolled his eyes, reaching for the Murtlap leaves. "My mere existence makes him mad." He wanted to tell her that the fact that he was the Professor's flesh and blood had something to do with it too. But this was not the time nor the place to do it though.

"Honestly, Harry…." She sighed, prodding her potion with her stir stick.

He began to protest. "I didn't do anything, I just - "

He cut himself off as Snape descended upon them quite suddenly. "That's another 5 points from Gryffindor, Potter, for deliberately ignoring my instructions. And 5 more Miss Granger, for helping him."

At this, Hermione looked furious. "But sir, I wasn't - "

But Snape had turned away and behind them, the Slytherins tittered.

Hermione pursed her lips and angrily hurled her red peas inside the bubbling concoction. She did not look in Harry's direction for the rest of the lesson and when the class ended, she put her perfect potion on Snape's desk next to Harry's (which had not quite turned out as properly) and turned to walk out.

Harry ran out after her. "Hermione…."

"I wasn't even helping you and he took off points!" She burst out angrily, stamping her foot in frustration just as Ron managed to catch up with them.

Smiling vaguely as if to say I-told-you-so, Harry scratched the back of his head. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have spoken."

"He's a git." Ron said, darkly. "All the Slytherins are, including their Head of House."

They spent the rest of the time insulting the other House while walking to the Great Hall for some much needed lunch. Harry found he was starving – having missed so many meals and having to spend so much time with Snape had been draining. He looked forward to relishing in his friends' company.

By the table next to them, Malfoy swept by, knocking Ron on the shoulder rudely as he made his way to his seat. Hermione prevented the red-haired teen from flying across the hall and knocking Draco out. "That wanker…" Ron hissed, "If I get my hands on him, I swear…."

"You wouldn't dare to do anything." Hermione said lightly. "Or else he'd run to his 'daddy' – just forget about him, he's not worth it."

Sulkily, Ron went back to eating his Shepherd's Pie. Hermione tried to cheer him up, but anything she said made him look even moodier. She glanced helplessly at Harry, who, knowing Ron's pride was hurt, merely shrugged.

Out of the corner of his eye, and quite unwillingly, he caught sight of Paige Hart locked in a rather affectionate embrace with Draco. He glanced away when she looked up right at him.

Of course the most gorgeous girl in the school would be with the richest boy. Despite the fact that Draco was a selfish, self-assured kid, he was a very good looking one at that, and it couldn't be denied that half the girls in the school fancied him.

"Aren't they just perfect for each other?" Ron asked, scathingly when he saw what Harry had seen, watching the pair in disgust. "Don't they know such things should be done in private?"

Hermione sniffed in disdain also. The kissing had gotten so intense that almost everyone in the room was staring. "It's like they're eating each other." She said, making a face. "I don't see how anyone could want to ever kiss Malfoy's slimy face." At that, Ron latched onto her insult and the two of them enjoyed making fun of them while Harry let his eyes slide up to watch again.

He wondered if Paige knew what type of guy Draco really was. But maybe she did, as she was in the same House as him after all. She was older than him, wasn't she? He watched for a little while before getting to his feet. He did not want to watch any longer a strange ache in his chest.

Ron and Hermione broke off in their giggling, looking up at him. "Where are you going?"

"Madam Pomfrey's." Harry heard himself say, detachedly. He was relieved that neither of his friends raised an objective to that, and bade him farewell until their next lesson. They must have been accustomed to him doing so already.

Madam Pomfrey, however, was not in a good mood at all that day. As she went to work checking Harry's usual conditions, she said not a word, angrily scribbling down her findings. The ferocity at which she did so alarmed the boy.

"Madam, is there something wrong?" He asked tentatively when the papers she was holding ripped in two with her unexplained vengeance.

"Never you mind." She snapped. "Now hurry off to lessons – I've enough to bear with."

Knowing that she wasn't exactly angry at him, Harry couldn't help but feel as though he had done something wrong. Holding his tongue wisely, he hopped off the bed, moving towards the door after saying goodbye.

To his great disappointment, Professor Lupin was not in a good mood either. Instead of his usual, jolly manner, he looked extremely worn. "Right then, wands away." He said impatiently, as the class eagerly sat awaiting the start of class.

Ron and Harry exchanged glances before slowly returning their wands to their bags with disappointment, along with the rest of the class who were just as disappointed.

"We will be reading from our textbooks today, on WoolCaps," He continued, watching as the class reluctantly placed their textbooks on their desks. "By the end of the class, the chapter should be read." At the collective groan he smiled only slightly. "Not to worry," he announced, raising his voice slightly, "it's not long. Once finished, you may leave.

"However, I require a one page essay on them in detail on what they do to be handed in tomorrow. We'll start learning how to protect ourselves from them then."

As one, they turned to the appropriate page, Hermione already immersed in her book.

To their surprise, Professor Lupin stepped out of the class and the moment he did, the class broke out into murmurs.

"I hear that Dumbledore's let Dementors guard the castle." Harry heard Seamus saying behind him.

"Dementors?" Dean repeated, aghast. "Why?"

Ron turned around. "You reckon that's why all the teachers are in a fit today?"  
Seamus shrugged. "Might well be."

"What are Dementors?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Guards of the Azkaban prison." Hermione quoted, not looking up from the open book before her. "One of the foulest creatures alive – they attack anyone who stands in their way; friend or foe."

Once again, Harry and Ron exchanged glances. They had thought that she had not been paying attention to their conversation.

Leaning forward, Harry asked, "What do they do?"

"They suck a person's soul out." She replied, turning the page of her book still not looking up. "They make you feel like you'll never feel happy ever again. Your fear is their strength."

Harry sat back, frowning. "Dumbledore's gotta be mad letting things like that in…"

"What, are you scared, Potter?" Malfoy's sudden jeer rang out over the room. All heads turned to watch as he stood up, shaking the fine strands of his pale blond hair out of his eyes.

Harry scowled in annoyance. "No one was talking to you."

"Well, I was talking to you." Malfoy said. "How is it that you don't know what a Dementor is? I thought you've done the Dark Arts." A knowing smile spread across his lips, making Harry's blood go cold.

He knew.

Heart hammering in his chest, he shot back, "I've never been to Azkaban to check." It sounded like a rather pathetic plea in his ears.

Malfoy laughed, and so did his cronies. A few nervous giggles littered the class and everyone watched eagerly as Malfoy drew his wand.

"I'll bet you're scared they'll find you." He said, still in that knowing voice.

Harry feigned ignorance. "I'm not afraid of _you_, Malfoy."

"Prove it." He hissed.

As Harry began to draw his own wand, Hermione's hand reached out and clamped around Harry's. She was no longer absorbed in her book. Now, her eyes were wide and her lips pressed together in a disapproving fashion. "Are you insane? You'll get in trouble!"

"Shut it Granger!" Malfoy snapped, before Harry could reply. "Stick your nose back into your book where it always is." At that, the Slytherins laughed and the Gryffindors shouted angrily. Hermione's face flushed and Harry got to his feet.

"Watch it, Malfoy!"  
Draco smirked. "Or what?"

They faced off for a few moments when suddenly, Malfoy shouted, "_Expelliarmus_!"

But Harry had learned his lessons well. "_Protego!_" The spell bounced off his shield and Malfoy stumbled back a few paces while everyone else scattered out of the way, the scraping of chairs so loud that Harry almost missed hearing the next spell. As was the case, he was not fast enough to block. "_Impendimenta_!" His legs kicked and jerked out from under him and Harry fell, face first to the ground.

Before he hit it though, he sent a hex of his own. "_Petrificus Totalus_!" The spell missed by an inch, hitting the closest desk, making splinters fly and earning shrieks of fear.

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed, as the wind was knocked out of the raven-haired teen. But Harry didn't stop – he wouldn't. He refused to be beaten down again by anyone. The jinx that Malfoy had sent his way had been weak and had worn off quickly so that when he forced himself to his feet, he was able to find solid ground.

Spells flew back and forth, and pretty soon, the whole class was huddled toward the back of the room, while the two dueled.

"Give it up!" Harry shouted, as the other got hit in the chest with a stinging hex. Draco's scream made Harry's spine tingle. It was obvious to anyone that Harry was the better dueler: he knew more spells than anyone in the class, and he knew how to wield them almost expertly.

Hermione screamed out for them to stop again as Draco lunged with his wand, a blue streak of light emanating from the tip. But her cry went unheard as Harry tripped backward, his legs locked together.

Malfoy's face lit up triumphantly and when he smiled, his teeth were all bloody. "_Torsecona!_" It felt like a concrete block hit Harry in the face, snapping his head back and hitting the floor with a sickening thud.

The class cried out again, moving closer. The battle had gotten outrageously out of hand and no one, it seemed, could stop it. It was as if no one else existed in the room but the two of them, and no one dared to get too close.

Forcing the darkness that was invading his peripheral vision away, Harry raised his wand in a shaking fist. One side of his glasses was broken and he squinted, seeing Tankov's face in his mind's eye. "_Tangora!_"

For a moment, nothing happened, and Harry thought that the spell didn't work. Just as Malfoy was about to gloat about it, he found himself spun up tightly in a web on the wall very much the same as Harry had been in his earlier years in Durmstrang.

"Stop it! Stop it right now, the both of you!" Hermione's shriek rang loud in Harry's ears and even Malfoy looked up in alarm. They stared at her, both breathing hard. Her eyes were full of tears and her voice shook when she spoke. "Please…just stop…."

"_Arpengio._" A calm, collective voice said. Both Harry and Draco were released from their bonds, the latter falling in a tangled heap of robes on the floor.

Everyone turned to see who had spoken the incantation, and were shocked to see none other than Professor Dumbledore standing there.

The room suddenly went so quiet, one could have heard a pin drop. Frightened glances darted about the room. Nobody moved.

Malfoy turned paler than was possibly normal and Harry could not help but feel the same way – his heart felt like it had managed to lodge itself in his throat somehow.

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore caused the room to right itself, the scattered papers flying back to their original places and the broken furniture and glass mending themselves up. In no time, the room looked as it had before Lupin had stepped out – save the fact that the students were out of their seats, huddled together in a crowd, while two certain students stood haphazardly in the wake of the Headmaster.

"What an interesting lesson." Dumbledore finally said, watching as the students flinched. "I hope everyone learned something."

At this, Hermione did burst into tears. To stifle her sobs, she pressed her face against Ron's shoulder. Dumbledore did not look in her direction, but merely folded his hands together as was his habit, seeming not to notice her distress. His voice, though very soft, rang through the room like a whip. "Please take your seats." There was a mad rush as students ran to obey, sitting up poker straight. Hermione, however, did not move a muscle, so Ron could only stand there, patting her back in a comforting fashion.

Once everyone was seated, Dumbledore turned to the pair. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, would you follow me please? Students, please attend to your studies."

Now, Harry felt as though his heart had melted and found its way to his stomach. His legs shook with every step as he followed Draco outside. The latter didn't look too well either.

Heads turned with wonder as they exited, and the moment the door closed behind them, were put together to contemplate their fates.

"He'll get expelled, I know it!" Hermione wailed into Ron's shoulder.

"He won't." Ron told her firmly, (though he didn't quite believe so himself) pulling her away gently and looking into her eyes. His fingers went out to wipe the tears away tenderly. "He didn't start the fight, remember? He was only protecting himself."

"I hope Potter gets into trouble!" They heard Pansy Parkinson saying, sounding hysterical. "Did you see some of the things he did?"

At that, the class began to murmur. It was true: some of the things that he had done they had never seen before or heard of.

"What do you expect? Durmstrang specializes in the Dark Arts from what I've heard." Someone sitting toward the back said.

The Gryffindors looked at each other worriedly. They did not want anymore house points taken off.

**0-0-0-0-0**

"I must say I'm disappointed in the both of you." Dumbledore said, as he led them toward the end of the hallway where both their heads of house stood waiting. "Mr. Malfoy, I had hoped that as a Prefect you would prevent these things from happening instead of starting them, and Mr. Potter, I was hoping that you wouldn't rise to the bait so easily seeing as how these things have been done to you before."

Neither boy responded, not daring to look at each other. "I shall leave your punishments with your Head of House to decide, but take note that this behavior is not tolerated at Hogwarts, do I make myself clear?"  
"Yes, sir." They said.

"I shall not have to talk to you both as though you were mere boys, again." He warned.

"Yes sir." They repeated.

When Snape and McGonogall collected them, neither looked very pleased. Afterwards, they spoke to the Headmaster quietly for a long while before they were led away in the opposite directions. More than once, there was a raised voice in anger, but whatever they said was not loud enough to be heard.

Snape did not look once at Harry as they parted.

Professor McGonogall led Harry into her office. "Sit down." She instructed, and he did not dare to disobey. He sat stiffly in the straight-back chair that faced her desk.

"What can I say to show you how upset I am, Mr. Potter?"

Harry said nothing, knowing that she was looking down at him expectantly, but he was unable to bring his gaze up to her. "Evidently," She continued, "the point system we have is not enough to deter you from doing these things as I've heard tell that you've lost us quite a bit of ours.

"Conducting yourself in such a childish behavior! At this rate, we'll be classified as no better than the Slytherins."

"I'm sorry Professor." Harry said, finally. "I know we shouldn't have dueled, but you can't have expected me to just sit there and let Malfoy hex me, do you?"

The professor took in a deep, calming breath. "I suppose not, but for heaven's sake, child, the damage you did to him! It's **_Defense_** Against The Dark Arts – not the Dark Arts practical!"

Harry blushed, scratching his cheek. He _had_ gotten a bit carried away… "Well, I think he deserved what he got."

Professor McGonogall's mouth twitched slightly at his remark, but she turned away briskly. "I've in mind a suspension for you."

"Suspension?" Harry asked, incredulously. "But Professor-!"

"For a week." She said, ignoring his protest. "Perhaps you will appreciate school more if you were out of it."

Harry stared in shock. He was being punished so unfairly!

"Be happy you're not expelled." McGonogall said. "That is the usual punishment for the kind of behavior you've shown today. You should know very well that underage wizards are not allowed to wield such dangerous magic around carelessly – and what's more, on another student!"

He opened his mouth to tell her that he was no longer underage, but remembered that this was not to be known. Instead, he asked, "Have you spoken to Dumbledore about this?"  
"Of course I have." She said, sitting down across from him.

He leaned forward in his seat. "Then you must know that I've no where to go."

"Oh, yes you do." She said, in an agitated manner. "Your guardian will be along shortly to collect you."

Now Harry was confused. "Guardian, Professor?"

She looked as if she had sucked on a lemon. Her expression was so sour that Harry could not help but wonder if somehow, Professor McGonogall had found out about his parentage.

"Yes, your guardian. You will go and pack your things, collect your homework for the next week and be in the lobby in the next half hour."

It all seemed like a dream, as Harry stood up from his chair.

Why did all these things have to happen to him?

Thirty minutes later, dressed warmly in his cloak, scarf and mittens, and bandaged from his earlier fight, he moved toward the lobby, pulling his trunk behind him, morosely. It had been the most humiliating thing to have heads turn in his direction and people whisper their theories about him, that he was almost glad to be leaving the school.

Luckily for him, Malfoy was in the same boat, and if he had looked pale earlier, he was paler now.

The front doors leading into the castle were opened with a bang, and in walked Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, looking positively furious. If not for the crowd of people who had gathered to watch the departure, he probably would have cuffed his son right then and there.

His cold blue eyes swept over Harry momentarily, making the poor boy flinch. "Mr. Potter," He sneered, flicking his pale blond hair back. "Always the troublemaker, I see."

Before Harry could respond, Snape entered and had a few words with Lucius before turning to face him. "Potter, you will come with me to the train station, where your guardian will pick you up."

Now Harry was even more baffled. He had thought that the Guardian would be Snape, and he opened his mouth to ask, but was distracted by Draco, who swept past him, knocking him back a pace or two.

The crowd was talking excitedly now, and Harry gripped his trunk tighter, as Snape began to lead the way out.

As the doors closed behind them, Harry felt as if a huge weight had been taken off his chest. There were no people to ask questions anymore. No people to hurt. No people to see his changes.

"You've got everything you need?" He heard Severus ask.

"Yeah." Harry said, trudging behind him, his boots crunching away at the snow beneath his feet.

"You've taken several vials of the potion with you?"

"Yes sir. Sir, who exactly is my guardian?" His breath rose in a cloudy mist before him. He could no longer contain his curiosity.

It was a long moment before Snape answered. "I _am_ your guardian – dimwitted as you are, surely you don't think I was going to announce in front of the whole school?" He sounded faintly disgusted. "But you will not be staying with me. The person you will be staying with for the week is your Uncle."

Harry stopped in his tracks.

No.

He would not go back there.

Snape stopped too, the bottoms of his cloak spotted with white snow, his face pallid against the darkness of his demeanor. "What's wrong?"

A mixture of fear and loathing coursed through Harry. "I'm not going." He heard himself say stubbornly.

Severus sighed. "Don't be a fool."

Now Harry got angry. "I'm not a fool. You wouldn't understand ­– because of you, I lead a horrible 10 years of my life at the Dursleys and now you want me to go back? Or are you just trying to deposit me on someone else's door step again?"

He shouldn't have said that.

He knew that Snape would get angry. "I was trying to save your life, if you haven't already realized that, you ingrate." He spat. "And for your information, you're not returning to the Dursleys, you're going to be staying with…." He trailed off for a moment, gathering his composure. "You're going to be staying with your mother's brother…"

Harry blinked. His mother's brother?

They walked some more, until they reached a carriage that was drawn up. Harry could see no horse present as he climbed in after Snape who shrunk his suitcase so that it would fit inside the cart.

"While you're there, try not to let his idiocy heighten your own." Snape said suddenly, breaking out of his brooding.

Harry caught the insult and flung one back. "Don't worry, I'll keep it to your level."

As the cart began to move, he heard Severus mutter, "You should have been expelled."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Harry demanded sitting back against his seat and wincing as the cart flew over a particularly sharp bump in the road. "I thought you were my only living relative."

"So did I." Snape said, tightly. "I'm not particularly happy that you are staying with him, but I'm given no choice – things are…complicated."

Funny, Harry had used the same word that morning.

"If there is a problem, you are to contact me immediately by mail or by floo. Do you understand?"  
Why were the adults always asking him if he understood? Annoyed, Harry nodded. "What could possibly go wrong?" He asked, sarcastically.

Snape let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, trust me, with _him,_ anything is possible."

The carriage had been traveling for a good ten minutes, and soon, Harry could see the train station, the purple and red Hogwarts Express waiting to take off. The platform was empty, save for a stray dog that was wagging its tail, sitting close to the edge.

"Surprise, surprise, he's early." Snape said, more to himself than to Harry.

"Excuse me, sir…" Harry leaned forward as the carriage came to a stop. He peered out again at the platform and still saw nobody. "Who exactly is 'he'?"

Snape pushed himself out of the carriage, and Harry stumbled after him, lugging his trunk with him, now full in size. "Your Uncle." And he nodded at the dog.

Harry pushed his glasses up, wondering if he was quite sane. His uncle was….a dog!

More confused than anything else, he hurried to keep up with the Professor who had begun to make his way to the platform. By the time they reached it, the dog was gone and in its place stood a man, with long dark hair and sharp blue eyes.

Snape stopped a few paces away from him, and Harry kept a few steps behind him, staring at the stranger in wonder. "This is Harry." He said, somewhat reluctantly to the man. "And this," he said to the teen, "is Sirius Black."

**To Be Continued….

* * *

**

AN: I hope you enjoyed that last chapter. Again, sorry for the late update. The next chapter shouldn't be that late in coming. Anyway, here's a preview:

* * *

_Sirius took most of the impact, toppling backward with the teen caught up in his arms, and they landed with a loud thud at the base of the wooden stairs, the older man hitting his head against the closet door so hard that his peripheral vision turned white with the pain._

_Groaning, he blinked, trying to get himself to focus, and shook Harry, who had not made a sound._

_"Harry? Oh my god – Harry! Are you okay?"_

_When Harry did not respond, Sirius began to panic.

* * *

_

Please review and thanks for reading,

-Chiki


	16. Bad Influences

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES

By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good. Okay fine! I don't own Harry Potter…all original characters are mine to claim though.

Warnings: None. Enjoy!

* * *

**CHAPTER 16**

**- Bad Influences -**

"Hello, Harry." Sirius said, warmly. "You've grown since I've last seen you."

"Sorry…." Harry said hesitantly, "but…I don't remember you…."

Sirius grinned, showing two rows of perfect teeth. Although he had a bedraggled appearance, he possessed a ruggedly handsome look that made most people turn their heads to look at him. "Of course not! You were a baby last you saw me, so I wouldn't expect you to remember. James and Lily were so proud of you."

Harry noted the fond tone in the man's voice. "You knew my dad?"  
Sirius nodded. "Him and me were best mates."

Snape coughed dryly. "Wonderful memories Black, but we haven't got all day to reminisce. Take care not to do anything drastic to the boy – if you do, you will answer to me." He turned to Harry. "Don't disappoint me any more than you already have, Potter. I shall see you in a week – farewell."

Without waiting for a response, he swept away from them, not looking back and moving down the steps. He enclosed himself once more inside the carriage which immediately pulled away, looking as though it were being moved by some invisible horses.

He was left alone with Sirius, who seemed just as anxious.

As if to remind them, the train blew its horn once in a loud blast, causing the two to jump.

Sirius motioned to the doorway. "We should get going." They hurried on board and found themselves a compartment.

The train was empty for the most part, with one or two passengers other than them on board. Sirius sat down after closing the door behind them, and Harry pointed his wand at his trunk. _"Locomotor Trunk."_ The case obediently floated up to the overhead compartment and settled itself neatly in the corner.

As the train pulled away from the station, Sirius stared at Harry. "You look so much like James….and yet…" He trailed off, looking sad. "…I'm sorry to hear about He said at last.

Not quite sure if Sirius knew about his mental problem or his paternal problems, he did not jump to conclusions. As a person who had learned to be cautious, he was on his guard already.

He was not comfortable being in the presence of a total stranger, and surprisingly enough, he found himself wishing for Snape's company instead – at least he knew the man. For all he knew, this man was no better than his Uncle Vernon, and he shuddered at the mere thought. He remembered Snape's dislike for Sirius and Professor McGonogall's sour face when she had mentioned him.

"Er…sorry…but…" feeling very uncomfortable, Harry tried in vain to figure out what to say next.

"You can call me Sirius." The man said, shrugging. "Mr. Black is way too formal for my taste."

"Uh…Sirius….where exactly are we going?"  
"To my place." He said. "It's not much, but I hope you'll enjoy it. You'll have to forgive the state it's in – I haven't been back there in years myself, so I think of it as a homecoming of sorts as well."

Harry had not imagined his suspension to be 'fun' but he could not help but like the way Sirius spoke so freely and calmly. He had a boyish excitement in his voice whenever he said something that Harry relaxed just a bit.

As the trolly came around, Harry was surprised to see Sirius buy a load of junk food, eagerly stuffing them in his mouth. "By Golly, it's been such a long time since I've had a licorice stick! Why didn't you get something?"  
Harry smiled tightly. "I can't." He said.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at that, and bit off the end of a Peppermint stick he held in his other end. "Why not?"

"Because of He responded. "Didn't Snape tell you…?"

At the mention of the Professor, Sirius smirked darkly. "Ah, yes, that git – well, he can say whatever he wants – a life isn't complete without some sugar."

Surprised, Harry watched as Sirius took another big bite out of his licorice stick. "In all honesty," He spoke as he chewed, "a little bit of indulgence once in a while won't hurt."

It was Harry's turn to smirk. "Yeah, well, you wouldn't say that when you saw the results of that indulgence."

Sirius waved his hand carelessly. "I don't mind children."

The train jerked and stopped for a moment or two causing the pair to look up in alarm. Before either of them could make a move toward the compartment door, the train began to move again, and Sirius frowned thoughtfully, but decided that it was not a matter of concern and began to open a pack of chocolate frogs. He tossed one to the teen, who caught it clumsily.

Harry began to protest. "I don't - "

"- C'mon, don't be a chicken." Sirius mocked.

He felt his anger spark. "I'm not being a chicken." He said, somewhat hotly. "I just don't want one, okay?" He chucked it back to the man.

Again, Sirius raised an eyebrow but his smile did not fade. "Relax, Harry. I'm not trying to bait you. I understand your condition, but I want you to start _living_ instead of cowering in fear of what could happen: and changing personalities is not such a big deal." He threw the chocolate back to the boy, saying, "Remus was right, you're way too cautious for a boy your age."

Harry held the chocolate in his hands, staring down at the pentagon-shaped box. "I don't like people forcing me to do something I don't want to." He told him.

At that, Sirius began to laugh. "We both know that you want to, Harry!" He pulled a packet of Droobles toward himself, opening it so that the strings popped all over the place, looking like a bunch of party crackers instead of candy. "For The-Boy-Who-Lived, you sure don't live on the edge." He chose to eat a green string, and winked. "If you don't want to eat it, then don't. Just a reminder though, Snape's not around."

At that, Harry laughed. At first, it was a bark of laughter, meant to scoff off Sirius' statement. But then, it turned into a real laugh – and it felt good. He laughed until his sides ached and he didn't care. He would not have been able to explain just why he was laughing, but all the tension seemed to be cut, and when he sobered, a smile stayed on his face. He picked up the chocolate frog and before it could jump out of his hand after opening the container, Harry snatched it up and bit through it.

He waited for something to happen.

Nothing did.

**0-0-0-0-0**

The House of Black was huge, and well-hidden, as Sirius had said was a good thing. He led Harry inside, the big old door creaking in protest to the kick that was delivered to it to close behind them.

The two had settled into comfortable companionship, and Harry decided that he liked his Uncle. There were still so many things he did not know or understand, but he was not in the mood to think about it or to complain. He was looking forward to some quiet rest and maybe – according to Sirius – some fun.

"You can choose any room you like," Sirius called over his shoulder. "Merlin knows this place has too many." He brushed aside some cobwebs, and moved down the dark hall. It reminded Harry a lot of Durmstrang's dungeons.

He was following behind when all of a sudden, he felt something collide into him. Actually, it collided with his legs for the most part. Gasping and looking down, he was astonished to see the most knobbly creature he had ever seen.

Sirius was of the same opinion. "Kreacher! There you are! You could have at least cleaned the place up before we arrived."

Kreacher bowed so low that Harry had to wonder whether or not the House Elf had a spine at all. "Kreacher is sorry, Master." He said in a croaking voice. "Who is this?"

"That is Harry Potter, a distinguished guest. I don't want you speaking with him. You are to attend to his every need and listen to whatever he tells you."

The House Elf bowed again, but Harry could see that he had narrowed his eyes and was glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. "As Master wishes." And with a crack, Kreacher disappeared.

"Don't mind him." Sirius said cheerfully. "He's never liked me, but I have the same sentiments toward him. I would turn him away, but then that would mean I have to cook and clean all by myself – and living in this empty, dreary house by oneself is very disconcerting."

The question was asked even before Harry could figure out what he was saying. "Why don't you get married then?"

"Oh ho, very funny." Sirius said, leading him up the stairs.

"I was being serious." Harry said, smugly as he passed a picture of a sleeping old woman who opened her eyes to look at him.

The elder man turned briefly to look at him. "No one is good enough for me." He said, cheekily. Whether he meant that as a joke or as a true statement, Harry did not know. He decided not to ask and began to poke his head into the empty bedrooms.

They were all the same – big, dusty and empty save for the beds and a few photo frames. How many people had actually occupied these rooms in the past left Harry baffled.

He finally settled for a room on the second floor, the first on the right closest to the stairs in case of emergency. He lit a fire in the grate and proceeded to empty his things from the trunk. Abcde was placed next to his window, where no doubt she would have a fun time enjoying her new surroundings when she awoke later that night. He set up Hedwig's cage on the dresser, leaving it open for when she arrived – according to Hagrid, she would find the way.

Sirius walked around the room twice, making sure that he had removed all the cobwebs to help make the room more inhabitable. "If you're tired, you can take a nap before dinner." He suggested, pocketing his wand. He paused when he saw Harry poised over his suitcase, not moving. "Are you all right?"

Harry looked up, flushing slightly as he hastily began to pull clothes out. "Yes." He hesitated, his hand holding onto an overly large sweatshirt. "I just…I just wonder why I'm always getting into trouble."

Sirius let out a hearty laugh. "Aye, James was just the same! He had - "

"- a knack of getting into trouble, yes, I know." Harry finished, sullenly, placing the sweater down on the bed too. "I don't want to be the same….I just want to be normal."

The elder man sat himself down on the edge of the bed. "Well, for the boy marked, that is almost next to impossible." He reached over and ruffled Harry's hair. "But cheer up – I'm very lenient, so feel free to burn down half the house."

Smiling could not be repressed and so Harry allowed himself to do so.

Napping did a world of good for The-Boy-Who-Lived, and when he awoke, it was night time. Abcde was twirling in her lantern slowly, shedding enough light for Harry to stumble his way through the dark room and retrieve his glasses.

Just as he pulled on a robe that was placed at the foot of his bed, Sirius knocked on the door twice before opening it slightly. "May I come in?"

Harry combed through his hair in an attempt to make himself more presentable, but it remained as unruly as ever. "Yeah, I'm decent." He said, trying to tame his hair once more but failing miserably.

"I was just checking on you. Dinner's ready if you want any." Sirius said, hovering in the doorway. "I'll be in the kitchen." He stepped sideways and out, closing the door behind him again.

Yawning, the teen stretched, feeling refreshed. He hadn't felt this good in a long time. "Abcde, could you shine a little brighter please? I can't find my wand." At his request, the Fairy gladly did so, making her wings a white color.

"This is another home?" She asked, in her tinkling voice.

Catching sight of the wand just underneath his bed, Harry stooped upon his hands and knees to get it. He coughed as he inhaled a ton of dust, but he managed to get it, holding it aloft triumphantly as he emerged from the floor. "It's a temporary home for the week." At her questioning hum, he responded, "It's a long story. I'll be up right after dinner." And he left quickly, not wanting her to ask him any more questions.

It was on the stairs that he fell over, hit with a sudden trance, and if Sirius had not been standing in the hall, the boy would have landed in a very painful manner. As it was, Sirius had lingered for a while in the hallway, barking at that useless house elf of his to get his nose out of his mother's closet and to help with preparing the meal. When he heard Harry bounding down the stairs, he gasped as the boy paused and fell, in what seemed like slow motion. "Watch out!" He cried, arms reaching up to catch him midway.

Sirius took most of the impact, toppling backward with the teen caught up in his arms, and they landed with a loud thud at the base of the wooden stairs, the older man hitting his head against the closet door so hard that his peripheral vision turned white with the pain.

Groaning, he blinked, trying to get himself to focus, and shook Harry, who had not made a sound.

"Harry? Oh my god – Harry! Are you okay?"

When Harry did not respond, Sirius began to panic. He tried to sit up fully and winced as pain laced through his neck and shoulder. Only when he managed to untangle them from his cloak and sit the teen back did Harry open his eyes. It was like looking into a mirror as he saw with a shock, that Harry had the same blue eye color as he possessed.

Merlin!

"Harry, are you okay?"  
A look of confusion settled itself across Harry's face. "What happened?" His voice was higher; scared.

Sirius glanced toward the living room, where the grate stood empty of a fire. He was wondering how long it would take to signal Snape and ask him for help. Had the boy hit his head? He thought back, frantically. No. Was it amnesia? Did this happen often? And if it did, what pills did he take for it? "You fell down the stairs." He managed to say, his hands nervously smoothing down Harry's dark fringe of hair with his fingers.

"I did?" Harry asked, still in that same high-sounding voice.

"Yes. You looked as though you planned it."

The teen got to his feet, a bit too quickly for someone who had just had a sort of concussion earlier. It left Sirius baffled. "Oh my goodness! I didn't even realize it was – oh, I'm so sorry Harry!"

Now even more confused, Sirius got to his feet as well, wondering what was going on until it came to him that the personalities had switched – and they had not been expecting to. This must have been the girl counterpart.

Before he could say something, the boy – or girl – turned to him. "I'm so sorry, Sirius! I didn't hurt you did I?"

Sirius scratched at his temple uncomfortably. "It's nothing. Listen, Harry – or, whoever you are – what just happened?"

"We just switched…it happens. And my name's Liliana." She said, smoothly. "I couldn't have woken at a worse time." She sounded so mournful, and she nervously clasped her hands in front of her. "…thank you for helping us."

Sirius nodded dazedly, and offered for him – her – to sit down on the couch for a moment so that he could get some tea. When she was seated, he quickly made his way to the kitchens where Kreacher was angrily setting the table, all the while cursing under his breath.

But Sirius did not hear him. His mind was blown away by the whole encounter and in all truth, he was scared. Severus had told him about the personalities and that they came out from time to time and that there were pills that Harry was taking so they could be controlled. But because of the pills, he hadn't been expecting any changes to occur at all during the week.

His hands shook as he held his wand up, commanding the tea to pour itself into cups and he took a deep calming breath before he brought them into the living room where Liliana waited patiently.

She came to her feet when Sirius entered and he kicked the door shut behind him.

"I'm sorry about that." She told him, sitting back down and taking the tea gratefully. As she raised the china to her lips, she said, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Mimicking her actions, Sirius made himself drink the tea too once he was seated, wondering exactly how to proceed with the conversation. Simple: he spoke as he always did, in his brash, carefree manner, hiding his confusion and panic well. "I wasn't scared." He said, in the best jovial voice he could put on. He forced a smile onto his face.

Liliana smiled slightly, and took another sip. The tea was nice and hot, warming her body up in the cold room. It was grand, with draperies and rich carpets. Most of the decorations, she noticed, were green, and in the far corner of the room, she saw a banner of the Slytherin house. She turned questioning eyes to him.

Sirius shrugged. "My folks were Slytherins – so were my brother and sister."

"And you?"

He grinned proudly. "I'm a pure Gryffindor."

Another smile graced her lips as she finished off her tea. "I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me until Harry comes to." She told him. "As to when that will be, I have no clue."

Sirius put his unfinished tea down on the table, lighting the grate from where he sat with a simple spell. "Should I fetch for our dinner in here then?" He asked. "Unless you'd rather not eat with me or prefer to dine in the kitchens."

Liliana took her gaze from the fire and glanced at him. "Here is fine. I wouldn't mind your company….that is, if you don't mind mine."

He shook his head and ordered Kreacher to bring the food in. Feeling suddenly nervous, he thought to inform her, "I don't cook all the greatest – you'll have to excuse the meal…"

"It's fine." She answered, taking the food from the house elf when it was served. It was just like any other meal Harry had eaten, and it seemed that Sirius did abide by the rules after all, following Snape's given diet to the T. The taste, however, was blatantly different, but she did not criticize it. There was a bit too much salt in her opinion, but it was edible so she ate without complaint.

Sirius did not like the silence that stretched. He was always one for noise and talk, because his family had always been so rigid and formal. So, he wasted no time in doing that now. "Do you…I mean, does _Harry_ have these….sudden changes often?"

Liliana shook her head, her hair falling over her eyes when she did so. "He hates it when we take over – he dislikes us all, yet at the same time…" She trailed off, picking at her scrambled eggs pensively. She decided to speak again, cutting Sirius' nervous pull for conversation off before he could even begin. "If anything, Harry is very distrusting. I commend you, Sirius, for getting him to have confidence in something so small as to divulge in sweets." She put down her fork all together, wiping her lips with the corner of her napkin. "But I really hope that you aren't going to turn out to be a bad influence on him."

At this, Sirius cast her a witty grin. "Me? A bad influence? I wouldn't dream of it." He winked at her charmingly, as he always had a bad habit of doing with girls. "And what about you, Liliana? Do you trust me?"

She laughed then, shaking her head. "No, I don't! But I've got no choice as Harry cannot stay with his father." She gasped and bit her lip, wondering if she had gone too far.

"Severus?"

Liliana's smile faded slightly. "Yes…so you already know?"

He nodded slowly. "I'm still blown away by it all – when Albus told me…well, you can imagine my shock. And there's no mistaking those eyes…" As if to prove his point, he stared up at her, blue upon blue, the gaze intense. "None of this is Harry's fault, so I don't hold his parentage over him. I just wish that Lily and James would have at least mentioned it to me."

"They had their reasons." She absently adjusted her glasses.

"Would you care for dessert?" Sirius asked, suddenly, feeling the tension start again.

Liliana suppressed a glare. "You know," She said ruefully, "for someone who followed the diet that the Professor gave, I would have expected more from you."

Sirius scowled. "Why madam, if I didn't know better, I think you've insulted me."

At that, she laughed. He sighed then in defeat. "I take that to mean 'no'?"

"Yes. It meant 'no'."

"Then I'm calling it a night." The man announced. "Unless you're afraid and wish me to keep you company?"

Cheeks heating, it was Liliana's turn to scowl. "Why sir, I hope you're not returning the favor of the insult."

He chuckled, getting to his feet and giving her a wide, exaggerated bow. "I apologize, m'lady – I bid you good night." And with that, he left his plate where it lay, and made his way out of the room, leaving Liliana to gaze into the fire, alone.

**0-0-0-0-0**

"A girl?"

"Yeah." Sirius said, moving past Harry to get a bowl from a cupboard over head. "There must be a girl that tickles your fancy."

Harry ducked his head over his bowl of cereal to hide his blush. "No." he said, though for some reason, Paige Hart's image came into his head.

Sirius made a humming sound to show that he wasn't convinced. "Your dad and mum were absolutely crazy for each other in their last year."

Snorting, Harry let his spoon clatter noisily in his bowl. "Well, it isn't my last year, yet." _But it's hers_, a little voice in the back of his mind chided.

Reaching across the table, Sirius grabbed the box of cereal. "Exactly my point. I'm sure many girls have their eye on you." When Harry shook his head, Sirius prodded onward. "Are you afraid of them?"

Harry shoved the milk jug forward, and the man accepted it gratefully. "No, I don't need the attention."

Kreacher came by and skulked around in the corner for something, but neither boy paid him much attention. "What do you plan on doing for the remainder of the week?" Sirius asked, over bites of his breakfast.

"Studying." Harry said, glumly, pushing his spoon around in his bowl. "With all the work that was given to me, I wonder if I'll have time to do anything else."

The elder man looked up at that. "If you ever need any help, I'll do my best." He offered. "But…this afternoon, I have some business to attend to down in London. If you don't mind…."

"I can stay home by myself, you know." Harry interrupted, feeling somewhat miffed at the hint of reluctance in his godfather's voice.

"I didn't mean it like that," Sirius amended, "I was just wondering if you'd like to come down with me. Being holed up in here all week is not my notion of fun at all."

Harry pursed his lips and thought it over. As much work as he had to do, he really didn't want to spend it indoors – especially now that he was given a choice to do otherwise. Sirius did not seem the type to take things too seriously either, so he nodded. "All right, if that's okay with you." He allowed.

Rubbing his hands together, Sirius beamed, and then reached across the table again for the cereal.

"What are you going to be doing?"

"Some things." Came the vague reply. "Just be ready for noon. I expect I'll have to search for some muggle clothes." He said, more to himself than to the boy.

Harry couldn't help but laugh.

At noon, however, the teenager could not help but think about how he very much needed new clothing himself. Still in overly large clothing and no doubt ones that were out of fashion from years past, he was glad that Sirius loaned him a long trench coat to keep his attire from view.

"I'm afraid you can't come with me at every point," Sirius said, "but I'm sure you can take care of yourself. We'll meet up at a certain spot, if that's okay with you."

"Sure." Harry said, absently. It would be a good chance to look around. Living with the Dursleys had not given him the opportunity for much sight seeing as he was usually cooped up in their impeccably clean house.

London was very crowded, much to Sirius' dismay. It made him rethink leaving Harry standing by a Café entitled "Drink Swelters". But at Harry's insistence, the man turned to leave, telling Harry to meet him back there promptly at 3.

Glad for the chance to be alone, Harry began to wander the streets, and he was most relieved when no one stopped or paid him any attention. It was a nice change from all the stares he would get in the wizarding community.

Flowing through the moving crowd easily, Harry wandered over to the closest clothing store he could find. THE GAP, it read in big bold letters. _With prices like these, no wonder._ Harry thought, grimly, moving from one sale display to another. Those prices were enough to make a gap in the wallet, that was for sure.

He moved out of that store and back into the crowded streets. Nearby, a group of highschoolers dressed smartly in their uniforms, stood huddled together by an art store. It reminded Harry of Hogwarts, only, no cloaks were present. He couldn't help but wonder how different his life would have been had he not been a wizard.

Just as he was thinking that, a voice called out, "Magic! Magic! Watch him do magic!"

Turning around abruptly, Harry's eyes scanned the crowd. He felt a cold chill of fear run down his spine – he hadn't done anything! Like a wave of relief, he realized that the cry wasn't directed at him, but rather, a boy who was sitting at a booth right at the corner.

There was a small group crowded around him and a small girl who stood on an overturned crate, calling the people to them. "Watch as he attempts to pull a rabbit out of the hat!" She said, in a high, tinny voice that much reminded Harry of Abcde's. Harry pressed in as well, to see.

The boy looked to be around twelve, way under age for magic to be used publicly. Pushing closer, Harry noticed that the boy held out a top hat and a wand that was made of plastic.

_A muggle boy, performing tricks._ He thought, relieved. He hadn't wanted Ministry officials swooping down on them from all sides.

"Abra Cadabra!" The boy said, waving his wand around with a flourish.

Harry winced. That incantation sounded too close to the killing curse for his taste. When no green light came forth, he forced himself to relax. This really was no experienced wizard. He saw, with some amusement, that the boy took out a plush bunny from the hat.

The crowd clapped politely and the boy was all smiles.

"And now, I shall make this deck of cards move." The boy said, grandly. With another flourish of his wand, the cards moved slightly, as if pushed by an invisible hand. Once again, the crowd clapped, and when Harry looked closer, the bottom of the deck had a magnet attached to it, so that the force underneath it would be attracted and pull.

It wasn't real magic at all.

As the boy was speaking, Harry stared at the deck of cards. Why not? It was all in fun – and besides, no one was paying attention to him whatsoever. And he was no longer an underage wizard…

Carefully pulling his own wand out from his pocket, Harry pointed it at the deck. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." He muttered, and with a look of triumph, the deck began to float, dancing and twirling in midair as the boy's speech died on his lips. At his look of astonishment, the crowd turned to look at what he was staring at.

Harry let the spell stay for a little longer, before pocketing his wand. The deck fell with a clatter, the cards spilling out from their neat stack.

There was a stunned silence before the crowd broke into more cheers.

"Do it again!" Some people were saying, and the boy took it in stride, confidently telling them that he only did such things once a day.

Harry slipped away then, and went unnoticed.

Or so he thought.

Dark eyes followed his every move.

**To be Continued….

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AN: Sorry it took such a long time for me to update. My thanks to all the reviewers and I'm so happy that people are still reading this. The next chapter's preview, then:

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_The girl in the photo was Harry's real mother._

_It was the Black family tree: Sirius' picture had been obliviated._

_He could not, for the world of him, understand why his mother's picture would be blasted away as well. In her stead, there was no name written at all, her hole much bigger than that of her brother's._

_He traced the line from her to another hole in the curtain, and froze. Under the hole, he could read it clearly, almost as if it were shouting at him. Severus Snape. Feeling faint, he continued to trace the tree, his heart hammering in his chest._

_Selius Snape._

_Feeling like someone burned him, Harry retracted his hand. There was no photo of Selius either, just the name, scrawled in the fabric under the small hole._

_His picture had been obliviated too.

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Please review for me again! Help me reach 200! YAY!


	17. Mother

BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES

By: Chiki Yumeshisa

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Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good…okay fine! Harry Potter does not belong to me. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim though.

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AN: I'm back from a 5-year hiatus with this story. I could spout all my excuses here, but I'm afraid it won't do any good. I really do apologize though but I wanted to finish this story no matter what. Forgive me, all!

Recently, I just got back into fanfiction and I decided to put pen to paper (or lack thereof) once again. Here is the next chapter – better 5 years late than never!

**Warnings: **None.

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**Chapter 17**

**- Mother -**

No sooner had Harry stepped away from the crowd, did someone grab him by the collar of his trench coat, dragging him forcefully toward a narrow alley.

Gasping, Harry did the first thing he could think of, brandishing his wand and struggling.

_"Expelliarmus_!" The attacker sneered, and the wand was promptly knocked out of the teen's grasp.

Eyes widening in fear, Harry realized that his opponent, undoubtedly, was a wizard as well.

The sun was blotted out by the height of the buildings enclosing them and the darkness made it hard to see who it was that had grabbed him.

"Potter." The chided comment was spoken by none other than Snape, who spun the boy around to face him.

"Professor!" he gasped, staggering at the strange lever of an angle that he was placed upon. "What-?"

"-What on earth did you think you were doing, conducting spells outside so carelessly?" the Potions Master hissed, shaking him. He was wearing a long black trench coat, very similar to the one that Harry was wearing, his attire making him look menacing.

"I – I just thought...I didn't…." In a confused state, Harry could only stare at the man before him in bewilderment.

"You didn't _think_." Snape released his collar. Freed, the boy leaned against the wall, holding himself up and trying to catch his breath. "In a group of Muggles no less!" Angrily, he retrieved the fallen wand while Harry massaged his shoulder uncomfortably. "You were suspended on account of your stupidity. I thought you would have learned something from that, but apparently you didn't."

"Nobody saw me," Harry said, trying to sound confident, but failing miserably.

"Then explain, genius, how I was able to?" The professor snapped angrily. "I know a spell when I see one. A levitation charm? How perfect." Feeling his cheeks color, Harry groped for something to retort, but could find nothing.

"I expect that that no good Black has only managed to make you stupider," Snape said, shoving the wand back to its rightful owner, handle-first. That comment made Harry's anger spark.

"Sirius isn't stupid," He said, hotly.

"Yes, just extremely dim-witted, I suppose," Snape snarled. "Where is he anyway? I knew Dumbledore was losing it when he suggested you stay with him."

"And it would have been better to stay with you?" Harry demanded.

Snape's gaze smoldered. "Yes," he said simply. "Do you know what could have happened? What if you were tracked down by the dark wizards?"

Harry grabbed the handle, his hand shaking with his fury. "It was _one _spell! How could anyone find me after that?"

"You were not under Albus' influence leaving you wide open to the eyes of The Dark Lord," Snape snapped back. "If neither I nor Black were present, you could have easily been tracked. It's a pity I have to keep reminding you that a part of The Dark Lord resides _in your head_, Mr. Potter. I would have thought you already _knew_ that."

Mind spinning, Harry knew that he had slipped up. Snape was talking again though, in tones of disgust, making Harry's insides squirm uncomfortably. "_Of course_ it didn't occur to you that with a direct link, he has full access to you the moment you use your abilities."

"And you would know all about it, wouldn't you?" Harry spat, gripping his wand tighter. He hated the sarcasm that he heard in the Professor's voice. "You would know all about how a dark wizard thinks because - "

"-Don't even go there," Snape warned, putting his face so close to Harry's that their noses were almost touching. His gaze was so intense that Harry had to shrink back a bit.

They faced off for a while, before Snape turned abruptly, leaving Harry to falter in his steps. "Come with me," he ordered, in a voice that spoke of no protest. Meekly, the boy did as he was told, knowing that he was in a load of trouble but angry enough not to care.

Back into the crowded streets of London they went, and Harry was half tempted to run while Snape's back was turned to him, but he didn't dare. The guy would probably find him again anyway. How he had done so in the first place still escaped him, but he followed the man through the throngs of people and into what looked like a pub.

It reminded him of The Leaky Cauldron with the way it was so dark and gloomy. A few customers were there, and Harry had his suspicions that they were no ordinary Muggles. He guessed correctly when a few of them nodded heads at him or stared with wide eyed wonder at the scar on his forehead.

Self-consciously, he patted the dark fringe on his head down, trying to keep it out of sight and hunched his shoulders, suddenly glad for Snape's towering figure above him.

He caught sight of Sirius in the corner, sitting next to a woman with bright pink hair and another man, whose face (in Harry's opinion) resembled that of a gnarled tree. They all looked up in surprise when Snape strode over to them, Harry in tow.

The girl with pink hair stood suddenly, her face puckered in interest. "Goodness, Severus, what do you mean by bringing him here?"

At the same time, Sirius stood, saying, "Harry, what are you doing here?"

Snape glowered at him. "Good question, Black." He turned to Harry. "Sit," he commanded, and as much as the teen wanted to hex him right then and there, he didn't. Instead, he gazed at Snape levelly. "I'm not a dog," he retorted, tightly.

Snape brought his face close again, as he had done moments before. "Try my patience, Potter. I _beg_ you. Sit. Down. Now."

Feeling goose bumps race up and down his arms, Harry swallowed. This guy could be terrifying when he wanted to be: he had never seen Snape look so angry before. He sat down heavily on a stool at the end of the table and the Professor settled himself down angrily across from Sirius.

"Nymphadora, please stop ogling. We have things to finish," Snape said impatiently, as the pink haired girl stared at Harry unabashedly.

"Sorry," she mumbled, ruffling papers before her in a business-like manner. "We've gotten no further into our investigation, but we do have a full week to keep trying, if I'm not mistaken. Albus did manage to get Harry out for that long, correct?"

"Yes," Snape confirmed.

Nymphadora's worried frown did not leave. "The dementors won't leave unless they're satisfied that no one got in. Did Remus see anyone, Sirius?"

Sirius shook his head. "Not yet." He took a sidelong glance at Harry who, from the beginning of their conversation, had been lost completely. He wondered what they were talking about and why they talked of him as though he weren't present.

At Snape's annoyed look, Sirius quickly added, "We're doing everything we can though. We haven't had enough time, Severus."

"The sooner we catch the culprit, the better. Lucius Malfoy was more than eager to poke his nose into our business the other day. He's like a dog sniffing at every scrap he can find," the gnarled man growled. His voice was husky and gruff. "Good thing he's got his brat to take care of for the week. Should keep him out of our hair for the remaining time."

Harry stared at him, feeling a strange sense of foreboding with his words. Unconsciously, he found himself standing.

"Wait…." he heard himself say in a shaky voice. "…Are you telling me that this 'suspension' was planned?"

Everyone turned to look at him, as though realizing that he was among them after all.

"Of course," the gnarled man said, somewhat surprised.

"Moody," Severus said without turning to look at him, his intonation stepping up a notch in warning.

Moody grunted, turning his face toward Harry so that the teen could see that he had one normal eye, but the other was rolling around lazily in its socket, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. It was a very disturbing sight.

"I have reason to suspect Lucius," Severus continued, as though they had not been interrupted at all. "But there's no hard evidence. If we can get his wand, then it will be easier."

Nymphadora bit her lip, thoughtfully. "We're all trying our best," she said. "No updates as of yet. Don't worry though, no more students will get injured, Dumbledore has assured us of that." She stood then, getting her papers together. As she did, Harry noticed that her hair went bleach-blond, and her eyes changed to a gray color. "I'll be heading back now. Owl me if there has been any change." With that, she gingerly stepped out of her seat and made her way out the front door.

Harry stared after her, wondering how she was able to do that. Before he could ask, Moody got to his feet as well. "I'll be returning to the office as well," he was saying. "Until then." His glass eye swiveled to look at the teen, who stared back in fascination.

Moody reached up and pulled the cowl to his overcoat up and over his features, so that they were hidden from sight and clumsily left the pub.

A silence so strong settled over the three of them that Harry swore he could suffocate under it.

It was Sirius that spoke first. "I didn't expect you to bring him in," he said.

"Yes, just leave him out there with the whole Muggle world watching while he stupidly incanted spells, why don't you?" Snape replied coldly. "Who in their right mind would leave the everlasting Potter alone? Why didn't you leave him in the safety of your house?"

Sirius grit his teeth. "He can damn well take care of himself, Severus. Since when were you ever concerned for his safety?"

Snape got to his feet so fast, that his chair crashed against the back wall with a loud thud, making a big ugly black mark. "He is my son!" He thundered. It caused everyone in the pub to turn heads and look.

Sirius didn't seem to care as he leant back casually in his seat. "Funny. If James could only hear you now."

"I don't give a _damn_ what Potter would think," Severus snarled. He lowered his voice so that everyone else could not hear what he was saying. "I'm not about to let Harry turn out to be as dimwitted as him. I'm not about to lose him again." He paused then, his anger dissipating as he turned to contemplate Harry, who was staring at him now, with wide eyes.

A strange mix of emotions ran through Harry then. The aching feeling in his chest seemed to dissipate, and a new one arose. Was it…hope?

Angrily Snape tore his gaze away and spoke with Sirius. "I will be back, Black, to collect him myself. If I hear that you let him out of your sight again, I will come after you, so help me."

He turned his smoldering eyes to Harry who actually shrunk back. "If you fool around so carelessly again, you will answer to me."

Nodding, Harry managed to squeak, "Yes, sir…."

Snape held his glare for a while longer, before mimicking Moody's actions of pulling his cowl up over his head to hide his features and striding out.

Sirius let out a sigh of the breath he had been holding in during the tense moment. "Well!" He said at last, that witty smile playing over his lips again. "That went swell!"

**0-0-0-0-0**

Back at the House of Black, Harry went straight upstairs, in no mood to get scolded by Sirius for earlier. He entered a random room, thinking that if he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't go where Sirius would look first so he avoided locking himself up in his bedroom.

The events from that day made his head spin. Snape's words echoed in his mind, and he didn't want to think about it: he had never heard Snape ever reveal any sort of sentiment toward him. If there had been any, it would have been hatred. It made Harry's chest ache with longing for some reason and he pushed that away.

He wandered the room then, looking absently at the photos on the walls, not really paying attention to the people behind the frames, his mind occupied with the information he had heard.

A planned suspension.

He had gathered very little from the short meeting he had witnessed, other than the fact that the Dementors were clearly looking for someone and according to Nymphadora, someone had been hurt. That would have explained Madam Pomfrey's wretched mood the other day, he supposed, but who was it they were looking for? And why did Snape suspect Lucius Malfoy?

_It's none of your business_, he told himself sternly.

_But it is_. Another part of his mind persisted_. I wouldn't have been sent away from the school unless it was really dangerous._

Just as he was thinking this, his eye caught sight of a particular photo that stood on a dusty stand. Behind the frame, a younger version of Sirius, Professor Lupin and James jostled each other. They were wearing Hogwarts robes, so Harry guessed it had been them during their schooldays. Beside the three stood another boy, who was smaller and looked very nervous. Occasionally, this boy would smile shyly and wave.

His eyes traveled to the other photo frames. One held a photo of the Black family. Sirius seemed to be very moody indeed, but he had his arm around a girl. She was tall and thin, and very beautiful. Beside her, stood a bigger teenager, looking strangely out of place. Unlike the others who possessed a certain attractiveness, this one managed only to look sour and crooked.

After a few more photos, Harry guessed that the girl and boy were the brother and sister of Sirius.

Which only meant one thing…

The girl in the photo was Harry's real mother.

He went back to the family photo then, staring at her. She had straight black hair, almost like that of Liliana's. Her movements were graceful when she walked around her photo frame and she was almost always smiling. There were not enough photos though, almost as if they had all been removed at one point of time or another, so Harry decided to search for them. Perhaps, they would be in another room.

He wandered the dark hallways then, looking overhead to see if there was any chance for light, but he saw, that all the lights in the fixtures had been burnt out. That made the place very gloomy, and somewhat haunted. Of course, Harry did not mind this…with ghosts in every part of the castle in Hogwarts, he realized there was nothing to be afraid of.

He entered another room, at the very end of the corridor. It looked very similar to the room he had just been in, except this time, there was a huge drapery hung on the walls. Closing the door softly behind him, Harry took a step forward, eyeing it.

It was the Black family tree.

His hand went out to touch the rough material, tracing the lines. Mr. and Mrs. Black were woven into the fabric, and their photos scowled at him as he let his finger pass over their faces. Under them were three straight lines. One read _Regulus Black_, showing the crooked smile and angry blue eyes. The other two lines halted abruptly, and instead of a photo, in their place was a gaping hole, where the photos had been burned away. Harry could make out a partially burned word as _ius Blac_, and he guessed that for some reason or another, Sirius' picture had been obliviated.

But he could not, for the world of him, understand why his mother's picture would be blasted away as well. In her stead, there was no name written at all, her hole much bigger than that of her brother's.

He traced the line from her to another hole in the curtain, and froze. Under the hole, he could read it clearly, almost as if it were shouting at him. Severus Snape. Feeling faint, he continued to trace the tree, his heart hammering in his chest.

Selius Snape.

Feeling like someone burned him, Harry retracted his hand. There was no photo of Selius either, just the name, scrawled in the fabric under the small hole.

His picture had been obliviated too.

Forcing his eyes away from it, he stared at the rest of the tree and with a shock, realized that he was related to Draco Malfoy as well.

A second cousin.

Mind spinning even more, Harry backed away, wondering if he'd get sick to his stomach. As if to spite him, the photographs of everyone on the tree laughed at him; mocking him.

He turned his heel and exited.

Just as he did, he heard a loud crack emanate from downstairs and he had his wand out and ready, almost instantly. Cautiously, he closed the door behind him with a soft click. All was still…or so he thought.

Then he heard arguing from downstairs.

What they were saying, he could not decipher, but he could tell from the tones of voices that they were not too pleased with each other. It meant only one thing: Snape had come to collect him as promised.

Chagrined, he moved toward the stairs, trying to overhear what they were saying. From the way that they positively yelled at each other, Harry could tell that they had never been on good terms with each other at all.

Snape's voice was just as vicious as it had been back at the pub in London. "I'll not have him hang around here; Dumbledore's orders or not," he fumed.

"I'm his god damn guardian as well," Sirius seethed back, slamming a door open. From the top of the stairs, Harry could not see which room it was he had done so to. "The spell should cover the family ties, and if you don't remember, _Snivellus,_ I am part of the family."

Snape's answer was low and angry, and there was a scuffling sound before a thud. "I dare you to say that again."

"Stop!" Harry shouted, running down the steps.

Both men looked up. Snape had Sirius' smaller and more lithe body pinned up against the wall, one hand fisted in the collar of the latter's clothing. Both were breathing heavily, impatience clearly written on both of their faces. "Stop," Harry said again, eyes darting back and forth between the two.

"Harry, don't be intimidated by him..." Sirius started to say, but Harry cut him off with, "I'll leave. Professor, let him go. Just…let him go."

Looking shocked now, Severus loosed his hold on the collar, leaving Sirius to squirm free and gaze at Harry in confusion.

"Get your things," Snape ordered.

Without hesitating, Harry did as he was told, and Sirius, after casting a dark look back at the Potions Master, hurried after him. "Harry! You _want_ to leave with him?"

Harry went straight to his room. "No. But I don't need you getting into a fight on my account. I can take care of myself. Besides, I brought this upon myself. I shouldn't be causing you any trouble – if anything, I'll let Snape handle that."

Sirius paced as Harry got out his trunk once more. His stay had only been for one night. "You don't have to listen to him, you know."

Harry threw in his robes and his books. "I know that," he answered quietly, snapping the lid of the trunk closed gently. "It's a choice."

"It's because of what he said earlier, wasn't it?" Sirius asked, suddenly, causing Harry to pause on his way to pick up Abcde's lantern. "It's because he said - "

" – I know what he said," Harry interrupted, in that same quiet voice. "I think I owe him this much."

Sirius scowled. "You don't owe him anything."

Bringing the lantern back to his trunk and settling it neatly on top, Harry smiled vaguely but did not answer.

Sirius tried once more to dissuade him, but Harry did not reply, dragging his trunk down the stairs and stopping at the base, where Snape stood waiting. The teen turned, making Sirius nearly collide into him. "I really appreciate you letting me stay here," Harry said, sincerely. "I'll visit you again sometime, if you don't mind."

The elder man blinked. "You're welcome at any time. And if he does anything to you, let me know," he said, his voice hardening as his eyes narrowed toward Snape in warning.

Nodding, Harry took a deep breath, before stepping up to the Professor, who took hold of his arm rather forcefully and in a blink of an eye, and another loud crack, vanished, taking the boy with him.

**0-0-0-0-0**

The world was on fire.

No, it was just his bones.

That's what it felt like, as they disappeared. The feeling of such intensity on every part of his body was very uncomfortable, and just when Harry did not think he could take the tightness any more, he found himself stumbling, unceremoniously to the floor, gasping and coughing.

Snape stood behind him calmly, on his own two feet, his dark eyes glittering.

Scrambling to compose himself, Harry brought himself to his knees, taking in deep breaths and trying to calm his nerves. "What the hell just happened?" he demanded, pushing himself to his feet unsteadily. His hand went out to grasp the wall for support, blindly.

"We Apparated," said Snape, nonchalantly. "We could not use the Floo network, as it is being watched currently. And taking the train here would take hours." He raised his wand and suddenly, lights filled the room they had appeared in.

Harry rubbed at his arms. "You could have told me in advance," he grumbled. If that was what it felt like to Apparate, he wasn't so sure he wanted to try it again any time soon.

Snape said nothing, rather, stared at him critically. "Why?" He finally asked, his voice harboring pure bewilderment.

Harry knew exactly what he was referring to, but he chose to ignore the question. Instead, he asked one of his own. "Is this your house?" He didn't wait for an answer, moving forward, looking around.

It was huge, from what he could see standing in the foyer. There was a grand staircase that swirled upwards. On the main level to his left, was a sitting room, and a little more to the right was a ball room.

On the wall, mounted, was a plaque, reading, "Severus Elliot Snape, Service to the School, Hogwarts Castle, 1976." That pretty much answered Harry's question. This was Snape's house.

There was a statue of a head of a man whose brass eyes stared straight ahead, his face passive. Harry rested his hand on its shoulder. "This is pretty big to live in by yourself," he remarked. He refused to look at his guardian, preferring to gaze at the chandelier overhead. A very long silence stretched, and he could feel the Professor's eyes on him, the gaze almost burning.

"We made a deal. It was fair for me to come after you since you did not tell me where you were going. Did you forget that?"

"I'm sorry," said Harry, quietly, when he realized that Snape would not leave him alone. "I didn't mean to scare anyone earlier today. I just…for a moment I just wanted to be a free wizard, like any other…"

Snape huffed, "Well, you're just lucky I was the one who got hold of you and not one of - "

"-Don't say anything," said Harry tightly, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "I already said I was sorry." He rubbed his forehead, tiredly. "I didn't expect to see you in London, that's for sure."

"It was the safest place for a meeting – we had Aurors around us at every entrance point," said Snape. "No one would expect the Wizards to hang out in a Muggle infested area. We managed it quite well." His eyes narrowed. "When there were reports saying that you were walking around unattended, I went to find you myself."

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. "I was just looking for some clothing." He gestured to the ones he had on. "These came from my overgrown cousin."

Snape eyed him in distaste. "Yes, you do look rather…shabby." He straightened then, his domineering attitude back. "I will not allow it," he said. "You are not part of the Muggle world. You are a wizard and you are going to dress like a respectable one. I will not have you walk around looking like….like that," he finished, sounding sour as he gestured toward him.

Harry held up his arms. "Sure, but I don't have anything else to wear."

Now Snape looked surprised. "I would have thought Lily and James left you a fortune."

The teen shrugged. "I guess so. I've never gone to check. It's always been sent to me by Dumbledore."

At last, Snape began to move, leading him down the foyer and up the stairs. "Now you pass as my direct inheritor," he said.

Harry made a sound of indifference, but in reality, he was very uncomfortable with the thought. "That means you have access to the vaults, and should you need anything, they will all be taken care of," Snape continued. "Vira! Ines!"

At the sound of the shout, two house elves appeared, dressed down in dark clothing, each wearing a dark circlet over the plastery skin of their foreheads. Both were females, from what Harry could tell. They bowed low and Severus waved their attention to the boy standing just a little behind him. "Harry, these are the servants, Vira and Ines. This is your new Master," said Snape, addressing the elves, who stared back at him with their orb-like eyes. "You will obey him as you would me."

They bowed again, this time turning their eyes toward the newcomer with curiosity. Harry smiled awkwardly – he had never had servants before. "Um…hi," he said, rather stupidly. To Snape he hissed, "You have two?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I used to have three, but I sent one away for being insufferable. Unfortunately I can't do the same with you," he breathed. "Vira and Ines are quite capable of doing anything you ask of them. In the meantime, Ines, I expect you to take Harry to his room and attend to him. Vira, dinner should be on the table promptly at seven. I shall have you cook up a certain meal for him."

A bit miffed, Harry climbed the stairs behind Snape. "_I'm_ not the one who's insufferable."

His bedroom was roughly the size of the dormitory one he lived in at Hogwarts, except it was much roomier, as there were no additional four poster beds. There was a single king-sized one pushed up against the wall and a huge wardrobe right next to it. Three bay windows were present, the thick green curtains hanging closed, tightly over all of them. There was even an attached washroom and a small fireplace, which Ines instantly took to heating.

"I trust everything is acceptable?" Snape asked, when Harry had put away his things and come back down the stairs.

Harry nodded. "I didn't know you were rich."

Snape smirked. "Hardly, if at all. Dinner then," he said, shortly, moving toward the dining hall, briskly. The food was already on the table, waiting to be eaten. Despite his fatigue, Harry felt his stomach growl, and sat down at the huge table, feeling very small indeed.

The meal progressed quietly at first, as Harry did not feel like arguing, nor did he feel the necessity of small talk. Snape didn't seem to care, as he read the Daily Prophet while he ate. But something bothered the teenager. Putting down his fork after finishing his meal, he broke the silence. "Why do you hate him so much?"

Snape put the paper down, frowning. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sirius. Why do you hate him so much?" Despite the short time Harry had spent at the House of Black, he had grown attached to his Uncle and his carefree ways. He couldn't help but wonder if that was how James had been.

At the mention of Sirius, Snape's brow furrowed. "He's your brother-in-law isn't he?" Harry pressed. "What did he ever do to you?"

Smoothly, the Professor closed The Prophet and glared. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Why were our pictures burned from the Black Family Tree?" Harry demanded, instead.

"What?"

"Our pictures. They were burned off of the tapestry."

Snape leaned back. "Sirius must hate me just as much," he stated.

Harry shook his head. "His picture was burned off too. Someone else did it. I want to know why."

When Snape never answered, Harry glared at him. "What was her name?"

"Who?"

"You _know_ who."

"It doesn't matter, Potter." Snape said, though he was clearly upset. "If you're done - "

"I'm not done," Harry said, impatiently. "Is there any other family member I am not aware of?"

Severus sighed. "No."

Again, a silence fell as Harry fought to contain his temper. He hated being left in the darkness, and that was what people were doing to him for the longest time. He was tired of it. Reminding himself of what Dumbledore had told him, he reigned in his anger and stood. Vira had appeared to take away the dishes and he nearly collided into her on his way to the door. She squeaked in dismay and scurried out of the way.

"Serenity," Snape suddenly said, causing Harry's head to snap in his direction. "Her name was Serenity Black." He closed his eyes. "The Black family approved of the marriage, but Sirius did not – he was upset that I married his sister." He trailed off. "We were enemies at school so naturally, he did not want her to have anything to do with me."

Harry faltered at the door, as Snape got to his feet. "Black was always a meddling fool."

"Did she love you?" Harry asked. He waited, then, not wanting to let this go. Searching…

The expression on Snape's face was unreadable, but his tone was soft and sad. "Yes." He shook himself out of his reverie and stepped around him, pushing the door open. "It's time for bed – I expect you up bright and early to finish those assignments you were given," he ordered.

Harry did not bother to argue. "Yes, sir."

With that, Snape left, leaving Harry alone to his thoughts.

* * *

**To Be Continued….**

**AN:** Ah, how I've missed Severitus' challenge! I had fun writing it once more. Snape just gets better with time. Anyway, I once again crave your forgiveness as well as indulgence for my lack of activity the past few years. Will the updates come faster? Hopefully! Well, more regularly than yearly intervals, anyway. Please review for me! It would be so awesome!

See you all in the next update! Here's a preview:

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_"P-Professor?"_

_In answer, Snape flung the door closed, droplets from his hair spraying when he did so. He turned and stumbled again, almost like a drunk man. As he pushed past the boy, he tripped over his feet again and alarmed, Harry immediately lunged to catch him._

_But Snape waved his hands away with a growl. "I'm fine." He inched forward, the water in his shoes squishing and leaving muddy footsteps behind._

_And then, he did fall, slamming first into the wall on his way to the floor. Crying out, Harry knelt next to him. "Sir? Sir?"

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